Keeping a Promise
by Lioness1
Summary: Story done! Two different endings! (chap 17 and 18) Kris fights for freedom in a very different way, and she happens to stumble across the Martin family. GABRIEL LIVES
1. Default Chapter

The tears poured from his eyes, and he raced his horse faster and faster. His breath rate quickened, his heart pounded and tore. Blonde curly hair flew back out of his face, along with the salty teardrops. The only thing in his mind was anger, and revenge. He dare not tell his father his plans, for he would surely stop his son. And that wasn't a possibility in his mind. 

His hands were shaking. Never in his wildest nightmares did he imagine losing a newlywed wife and brother at the hands of the same evil man. That man. Gabriel could envision his devilish face, those smug blue eyes laughing at his victims. It made the young man shudder to think of him. His mind switched to the face of Anne, with her flowing brown curls, those mysterious eyes, and goofy smile. Never again would her lips be kissed, her body touched. He longed to hold her in his arms that very moment, and think of all this as one big dream. But it wasn't. And he would make that man pay with his life for losing Anne.

Following him were a band of militia, each filled with the same burning hatred for Colonel Tavington. He had been the cause of all this, and no it was time to end his reign of terror. They arrived by the creak where the enemy lay. Colonel Tavington's men were totally surprised by the attack, and many did not have the chance to escape. 

Gabriel charged the men with his baronet, enraged beyond recovery. Left and right the dragoons fell. Finally he saw his target. The colonel was slicing his way through the militia, desperately trying to escape. Then he saw Gabriel. A trickle of both fear and happiness overtook him. At last he could kill the wretched Martin boy. But he knew of Gabriel's rage at the moment, and that could play both to his advantage and weakness. He decided that rage can be a powerful ally, if played right. He came after the boy, pushing others away. He saw the preacher loading his gun, but before the old man could fire Tavington shot the fool. Finally it was only he and the boy left. He grinned. An easy victory.

The colonel lifted his gun in triumph, only to be surprised when Gabriel shot first. The bullet hit him in the shoulder, but the man went down anyway. 'Let the fool think I'm dead…' he thought to himself, lying perfectly still. He heard the boy come closer, and knew it was time to attack. He spun around, and right as the blade touched the boy's skin, another bullet shot through the sky, accurately hitting the dragoon's chest. Before the sword could dig its way deeper into Gabriel, the man let go, the life drained from him. Blood poured out of Gabriel, as the wound to his stomach was about an inch stuck in. Another inch and he would have been dead in seconds. He took the sword out of him, and dropped to all fours. He knew the wound wasn't deep, but his vision was beginning to blur. He looked around for the person who shot the dragoon, but soon all he saw was blackness, and he closed his eyes.

He awakened in the dead of night, the crackling of a fire blazing in front of him. His eyes soon adjusted, and he glanced around, still not quite aware of what was happening. He made an attempt to get up, but soon dismissed that notion when a pain shot through his body. His wound. It was coming back to him….the fight….Colonel Tavington stabbing him…someone killing the dragoon…him blacking out…

A voice interrupted his thoughts. "he's awake! Go tell Kris!" He turned his head, seeing two girls, both no more than 16, peering down at him. Suddenly he heard footsteps and turned his head to the right. A young woman, about nineteen, just a few years older than the rest appeared. She had pulled her blonde hair back, so he couldn't tell how long it was. She gave him a sympathetic look with her pure green eyes, and bent down next to him. Her attire was simple, not fit for a young woman. 

"Where am-"

She cut him off. "Shhh", she cooed. Her voice was soft, though stern. "You need more rest. I'll tell you more in the morning." Being too weak, he took her advice.

When he awoke again, it was into those same green eyes as the night before. Feeling a little stronger, he enquired, "Miss, where am I?" She put a cold cloth on his head, rubbing his forehead gently. Her tender care made him think of Anne.

Finally she answered. "Our forge. Our hide out." He looked around. The only thing in sight were trees, bushes, and huge boulders that seemed to cover them from all angles.

"Its….nice…"

She suppressed a small smile. "It's not much, but no one has managed to find it yet. Its perfectly safe." He didn't realize who this 'no one' was, but he assumed she was referring to the British army.

"Excuse me, but what do you mean 'our'?" The girl looked at him curiously. 

"My militia and me, of course."

He peered around, and all he saw were ten young girls, all between the ages of 16 and 20. "I'm sorry, but I see no militia here. Perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me." This made her laugh.

"Maybe so. For you see, these girls are the militia." The look he gave her bade her to continue. "My militia."

"Your militia? Dear girl, the only militia in the Carolinas is the one my father is in charge of." Her expression changed.

"Your Benjamin Martin's son?" Her eyes opened wide.

He nodded, rubbing his head. "I've always wanted to meet your father. Is he near?" She sounded excited, and anxious to Gabriel.

He gave her a quizzical look. "Well, that depends, miss. Where exactly is this place?"

She grinned. "That is not our concern now. I will fetch someone to find your father and tell him you are safe." She got up to go, but he gripped her hand. She looked back.

"I can go myself," he valiantly proclaimed. She rolled her eyes. 

"Please," she said contently. "You probably can't even walk, let alone ride. First you recover, then you may leave."

He half grinned, half looked annoyed. "I don't recall you being the authority over me, miss. If I want to leave, I WILL leave." He never faltered his grip on her. She stared right back at him, with no intimidation bearing on her smooth face.

"And I DON'T recall a 'thank you' for saving your life."

He laughed hotly. "Oh, I think I could have managed without your help." I can't let this woman get the best of me, he thought. I can't deal with this now.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you would have had the whole situation under control. You who was an inch close to death. That blade would have killed you for sure." He knew she was right.

"Yes well, I have the tendency to think on my feet. I could have thought of something. Anyways, I must get back now, so if you'll excuse me…" He got up, the pain almost to much to bear. But he started walking, trying desperately not to cringe in front of her. He limped along, trying to find his tunic. The girls watched him, giggling in delight at his bare chest. He found it and put it on.

"This really isn't necessary, Mr. Martin. You don't have to impress me with your valor."

He turned back to face her. "Impress you? Listen, MISS, I am just trying to get back. And you are making it VERY difficult." She crossed her arms and sighed in disgust.

"And YOU are being hotheaded and stubborn. How far do you think you'll get before the British army tracks you down? On foot, and with your injury, you'll be dead in three hours."

He did not reply to this, but kept on walking. She flailed her arms and said to her friends, "I give up! Let the moron get killed!"

He had been traveling all day and night, with no sense of direction coming to his head. His wound hurt, his feet hurt, and he was undernourished. All he could think about was Anne. 'She's dead, you idiot. And its all because you left her to venture off into some war. You could have been with her, protecting her, stopping that ravenous beast that called himself a man,' he thought. He stopped and sat down on a rock, burying his head between his legs. 'Why did you have to die?' he repeated this in his head. Suddenly a drop of rain appeared in the sky, followed by thousands more, but he paid it no mind. All he could think about was her. Soon the tears mixed with the raindrops. "Anne." he stated.


	2. Reunion

Chapter 2

The woods were dark, even during the day. The trees covered any sense of light, and he found himself circling around and around. His heart was heavy, his body broken, yet still he pressed on. Finally, he found a clearing, with fields of corn. Automatically he knew where he was. "Just twenty miles til I reach father's camp..' he muttered to himself.

Shots were being fired in the distance. He immediately gripped his rifle, his eyes searching left and right. Even though they sounded miles away, he couldn't be too sure. Twigs snapped from behind, and he whirled around, his gun pointed. His eyes flared, but soon weakened as he saw his target. The man, whose gun was also pointed, dropped it to the ground. "Gabriel?"

Tears filled his eyes, and he dropped his gun as well. "Father." The two embraced, Benjamin, a look of both wonder and joy on his face. He squeezed his son tight.

Gabriel cringed in pain, but said nothing. He was too happy to worry about his wound now. His father felt him cringe. He stole back his body from his son, but kept his arms on his shoulders. "Your wounded," he bluntly guessed.

Searching with his eyes, he soon found the bloody stain on his young son's shirt. "It's not bad," Gabriel tried to explain.

Father mode took over Benjamin. "What happened? I thought you were…dead."

"I'm, sorry father. I took a bunch of your militia and we….we tried to get Colonel Tavington. He…he wounded me, and the others are dead." Suddenly both guilt and sorrow laid on the young man's mind, for he was the cause of his friends' deaths.

He refused to look up at his father. Benjamin, who immediately understood, sighed. "Your task was completed. He is dead."

Gabriel turned away. "I know. But not by my hands."

"Then who.." A snap of a branch. Both father and son reared there bodies, alert of the danger. A girl, one that Gabriel recognized right away, sprung her hands up. 

"Don't shoot!" She was one of that lady militia. He narrowed his eyes. So that woman was having people following him.

Benjamin lowered his gun and rolled his eyes. "Goodness, girl, what the hell are you doing all the way out here?"

Gabriel answered for her. "Following me."

His father turned to him. "You know her?"

"She's a scout for a most wild little girl. She had this young one follow me to get to you."

The girl looked from father to son, her arms still raised. "Lady Kris thought it best. She didn't think you'd survive long."

Gabriel laughed with scorn. "Of course she wouldn't. Now listen here. You run along back to that insane woman and tell her that I don't need her inconvenient help." The girl continued to stand there.

"Well??"

She bowed her head. "Begging your pardon, sir, but Lady Kris told me to report to Benjamin Martin first."

Mr. Martin straightened his back and looked from girl to boy in confusion. "Uh…report, then." He looked to his son and shrugged his shoulders.

The girl bowed again. "Thank you sir. Lady Kris brings word of the British troops. We have managed to obtain some of their traveling plans; er…routes and strategies they are planning to use, and the like. She told me to give these documents to you.." She took a piece of parchment out of her bag and handed it to him. "She said they would help a lot in our cause."

He stared at the parchment. "How did you get these?" The girl blushed.

"Seducing British troops does have its advantages." His eyes widened, and slowly a smile formed at the edge of his lips. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "It's madness. This 'Kris' woman started her own militia with no more than girls with batting eyelashes. The only good they could do is get themselves killed!"

A look of amusement spread on the older man's face. "A girl militia ay? Interesting."

"More like foolish."

"Perhaps. Though these parchments speak of their accomplishments. We need all the help we can get, Gabriel."

"Women should be at home cooking and cleaning, not fighting a man's war. Helping in any way will only get them killed." His eyes flared, his voice full of anger. Benjamin noticed, and put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I'm sorry she's gone, son." Gabriel looked away. 

"I don't want to talk about this."

The girl looked at the two, bewildered. Benjamin turned to her again. "Report back to your leader. Tell her and her company to meet at Carey Field tomorrow at noon." The girl nodded and swiftly ran back towards the woods.

He turned back to his son. "Gabriel, come. You need rest for that wound to heal. How did it happen?"

Gabriel turned and walked by his father, his mouth silent.


	3. The meeting

Chapter 3

Fires were burning by the time the girl arrived back at camp. Kris immediately took her horse and sat her down, away from the on looking crowd. "What happened, Jane?" She whispered. The young girl smiled. 

"He's okay."

Kris rolled her eyes. "I don't mean about Gabriel. Did you see his father?"

She nodded.

"And?"

"Carey Field, tomorrow at noon."

"Carey Field you say?" Her joy was too great to hide. "So he is not like that haughty son of his. I was afraid that if his son didn't believe in us, neither would he." The messenger girl nodded.

"Thank you, Jane." Kristina flipped over a bucket and stood up on it. "Daughters of America!" The girls stopped what they were doing and took a moment to hear their leader. She continued. "Benjamin Martin has agreed to speak with us!" Shouts of delight went up from the crowd, as the twenty or so young women eagerly hugged each other and clapped.

~~~~~The next day. Noon~~~~~

He paced back and forth on his horse, scratching his blonde locks of hair and muttering words under his breath. His father rode up beside him. "What's the point of meeting this little brigade if they can't be on time?"

His father smiled. "Patience, son. I know this whole thing strikes you as immoral, and believe it or not, I agree." His son picked up his head and turned slowly to face the middle aged colonel.

"Do you?"

"Yes I do. But that doesn't change the fact that if these girls are true patriots, they will not back down just because some farmer and his son want them to. Believe me, Gabriel, I learned a long time ago not to argue with a woman."

It was small, it was hard to notice, but Benjamin saw a twitch of a smile form on the edge of Gabriel's cracked lips. That was enough. 

"Well I still don't like it."

Hooves sounded in the distance, and Mr. Martin made all his men hide in the brush just in case it wasn't the guests of honor. Louder and louder it got. Benjamin peaked out from behind some leaves, and signaled to his men that it was okay. 

The girl who rode at the head quickly dismounted, while the rest stayed on their horses, waiting their commander's will. Some looked worried. Others looked on some of the younger men with pleasure. 

The blonde young woman walked right past Gabriel without a glance, and he nodded his head in frustration. "Benjamin Martin, I presume?" He nodded, and kissed her hand.

"And you are…?"

"Kristina Wickford, at your service. I'm sorry about the inconvenience this meeting may have caused you, but I find it vital." He looked deep into her eyes, and found nothing but passion and courage. He smiled. 

"It is alright. Although I am intrigued by what you and your whole group are trying to do. My son, however, is most displeased." Gabriel rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

Kris stared back intently at Mr. Martin. "Anger is powered by ignorance." To this Benjamin grinned, and Gabriel spun around to face her. 

"Arrogance and self-centeredness are what make up your so called patriotism. You just want to make a stand for women's rights, and believe me, miss, this is NOT the time to play the heroine." He was so close she could taste his breath, yet still she did not back up. A smirk appeared, followed by a scornful laugh. 

"Your lacking ability to comprehend our cause is not why I'm here, Gabriel Martin. I came to speak with your father, in private. Your passion for bullying will not be tolerated. I suggest you go off gathering sticks like the page boy you make yourself out to be, while I talk seriously to Benjamin Martin."

Coughs and quiet guffaws rang throughout Martin's Militia, as the men desperately tried to contain it. Gabriel looked on to the women, who were grinning. With a final glare at the young woman smiling at him, he kicked his horse and rode off back to his camp. 'I don't need this right now', he thought to himself. She's bringing out the worst in me. She's…she's humiliated me.

Back at Carey's Field, everyone dismounted and talked while Kris and Mr. Martin rode off to talk in private. They traveled along a horse worn trail, an old one that was rarely used anymore due to its curves and bumps. Silence befell the two of them, until Kris decided to speak first. "Forgive me for dishonoring your son back there, Mr. Martin. I have a hard time holding my tongue."

He laughed. "He deserved that. Though I must say, he isn't as evil as you make him out to be. He's been through a lot." 

"We all have". She stopped her horse and got out her deerskin canteen. After taking in enough water, she tossed it to Benjamin.

Changing the subject, she got back to the matter at hand. "My militia and I have been trying to track you down for months. Your quite elusive."

He took the compliment with a nod. She continued. "I know this all sounds quite silly, or, in your son's case, deplorable. But I believe we possess some traits that make for the best spies."

"Go on."

She sighed, her nervousness becoming apparent. "As you can tell, I myself came from England only four years ago. As did many of the girls you saw earlier. Some are from high class families, others are simply prostitutes from the streets. We are few in number. But the information we have acquired and can still acquire is immense. British soldiers rarely pay much attention to women, and if they do, it is for sexual reasons."

He stopped her short. "Let me advise you, letting British soldiers rape you just so you can get information is not a good excuse to use with me." His voice was harsh and firm.

She looked down. "I admit, some of my girls do this. But not under my orders, I assure you. I have punished those under eighteen who have done so, and lectured the older ones. Yet I cannot stop them. But that was not what I was going to say."

He closed his eyes, and apologized. 

She went on. "Being a British high ranking official's daughter has it's advantages. I attend the right parties, meet all sorts of famous commanders, and of course, invite some of my friends along." He flat out grinned. 

"And what does your father think of all this?" She stopped smiling and looked away.

"He is nothing. Right now he thinks I'm staying with a friend in the countryside for a few months."

"And your mother?"

"She died on the journey over to America." He nodded. 

"And what is your goal with meeting with me, Miss Wickford?"

She took a deep breath. "To band together my militia and yours." She looked on to his face, hoping to read something. He stared at her blankly.

"No". He kicked his horse faster; they were headed in the direction of the field again.

"No?" She rubbed her horse forward.

"No". 

Her heart raced. Her eyes glared. "Well why not?"

He kept looking forward. "I don't approve. Tell me, Miss Wickford, can your girls fight?"

"They have the heart too."

He stopped his horse abruptly, as did she. "They're going to need more than that. Spying is one thing. Fighting is another." 

Her piercing green eyes blinked. "But I thought you agreed…"

"I agreed that your fighting a worthy cause, but making women physically fight and kill is not something I want to be responsible for." His voice, though firm, bared a soft touch.

"So this was just a waste of our time", she stated.

"No", he said. "What you and your young women are doing right now helps us in more ways then you know. Spying is treason, and its not for the light at heart. You have the resources to obtain vital material, and you should continue to use that."

Though she hated to admit it, he was right. But she would not give up. "I was the one who saved your son from that British Colonel. I pulled the trigger. I can shoot a gun."

"So can anyone. And I thank you with all my heart for saving my son's life. But I will not condone women fighting in battles. It is not meant to be."

"Fine, Colonel Martin. We will not join you, and we will not take part in any battles or sieges." She urged her horse on, tears unwillingly starting to form on her eyes. He sighed and caught up to her. 

"Whenever you obtain any documents or useful information, send a rider our way. You very well may cause a turning point in this war." She sniffled, and looked up at the man she had admired for so long.

"You're a good man, Benjamin Martin. I WILL see you again."

"I am honored to have a fellow patriot beside me", he stated with a smile. 


	4. Reflections

Chapter 4

Kris returned to her burrow with her followers wrapped in tow, and all the while she pondered on what the great Benjamin Martin had told her. Was what she and her girls doing respectable? Selling their bodies to gain information…it was the same as men dying on the battlefields. Mr. Martin just didn't understand. She had much respect for the man before their meeting, and afterward her thoughts on him did not change. 

Her thoughts drifted back to the source of all this. Her years in the colonies, though few in number, had taught her a lot about the value of the human spirit. Back in England, everything dealt with etiquette and refinery; there was no need for a woman to waste time with trivialities such as philosophy, economics, and even the simple act of farming. The minute she had touched American soil, she knew her chains to social finesse would break. Her father, Captain Robert Doyle of the 101st infantry to the crown of England; a man who despised the colonies; tried to keep his daughter locked away in their newly built mansion. But she had her own agenda. 

She saw with her own eyes the horrors her father's men were doing to the good citizens once the war began. On more than one occasion she peeked at his documents in his drafty office, noticing mortgage foreclosures and even hangings of innocent men. The slaves he owned were treated with no more regard than piss on a street. Robert Doyle was a cold hearted, sinister man, and Kris wanted nothing to do with him.

The fire was winding down to its last breath. The girls were all asleep. Mosquitoes picked at Kris, and she flicked them away. A tear slowly brushed the side of her cheek, but she didn't know why.

A gunshot sounded in her ear. Her eyes searched over the man she had just killed. His eyes were open, a look of shock plastered on his already pale looking face. She breathed heavily, dropping her gun. The man he had tried to kill was sprawled out on the ground, blood pouring out of his stomach. Her hands shook. She didn't know what to do. Her energy giving way, she knelt to the ground beside the young man, her leg hitting part of his curly blonde hair. His eyes were dilated; his head shaking. He looked up at her, and she thought she heard him whisper the name, "Anne". By now he was unconscious; a few feet away his attempted murderer lay. She recognized the dead man immediately. Her father had spent many an evening sharing drinks and laughing with him. He was the leader of the dragoons; the most ruthless of the King's army. One of her friends gently touched her shoulder. 

"Lady Kris, their all dead. We…we were too late."

Kris turned around, then looked back at the young man. "This one isn't. Here, help me get him on my horse."

The night air brushed against her skin. She headed into her tent, her hands once again shaking. _I'm doing the right thing_, she thought with reassurance. 

*******

It had been a week since Benjamin had met with the 'women militia'. Gabriel questioned him day and night relentlessly, hoping he'd give up what was said during his father's private conversation with the English girl. Ben did no such thing, inwardly laughing at his son's attempts. Frankly, he had worse things to worry about. A battle was forming, he could smell it. One of Lady Kris' documents explained the location of Cornwallis and his army, which had helped a great deal. Now they could pinpoint their moves; their numbers. Everything was leading up to one big battle, and general Howe had fled. 

Benjamin noticed the changes in his son; Gabriel had frequent nightmares, he spent long hours away from camp, riding through the countryside, and worst of all, he refused to talk about Anne. His son was going through the same grief as he did when his wife had died. He had prayed day and night to God to make sure his son had the life that he had not- a loving wife by his side until old age. He had lost a daughter in law, a son, and almost another son to the same evil man. Their murderer was dead, but not by a Martins' hand. Tavington's shadow continued to haunt father and son, mocking them. Benjamin knew Gabriel felt the same, and maybe that is why he lashed at so at the young woman. His rescuer had killed the man that Gabriel was supposed to kill. His revenge was incomplete, and it was tearing him apart day by day. 


	5. The Haunting Past

Chapter 5 

Lady Kris departed from camp early the next morning, dreading the ride home. She had decided to only tell Jane where she was headed. She had stopped off at the nearest town to order a carriage and driver as not to look suspicious in her father's eyes. It had been two months since her departure, and the last thing she needed was her father to go galloping the colonies searching for her. _Not that he would_, she thought, _but I have to be cautious_. From afar, the estate that she was supposed to call 'home' was quite breathtaking. Acres upon acres of the greenest of land had been given to Robert Doyle from King George III. Even the driver whistled in wonder as they came upon the driveway. Two soldiers halted their carriage, but Kristina was surprised to find her father running out to her, arms stretched. Shortly behind him, a man Kristina had never seen before came out. His eyes were stern, his lips statute, as if God himself could not pry them open if this man did not agree to it. The many badges on his chest indicated his superiority; even over her father. One of the soldiers helped her out of the carriage.

"My dear daughter!" Her father said, embracing her. Kristina cringed inwardly, but hugged him back. This sudden change from cold hearted enemy to loving dad confused her. Her father innocently took a quick look at the other man, and gave her one last squeeze for reassurance. _Oh, that's his game_, she wondered. _Who could this stranger be? Father obviously is vying for his affection through me_. He let go, but still kept his hands in hers. They were rough and cold, though the day was hot. "Kristina, I was beginning to worry; I was just about to send out a letter to our cousin to find out what has been going on. Honestly young lady, do you know how much it worries me when you don't write?"

The older man narrowed his eyes, his nose twitching as if he knew the obvious theatrical act this was. She realized she was staring, and turned back to her father, who was sweating profusely. _Maybe I'll see where this goes_…she thought was a smile.

"I'm so sorry I haven't been writing father, it completely skipped my mind. You see, cousin Emiline and I simply lost all track of time, we were having such an infectiously grand time. You purely MUST let me go back soon." She turned to her father's well dressed superior. "Father, you have not introduced me. I know I did horrible in those etiquette classes you gave me, but one thing I learned was that guests must be introduced before any conversations persist."

"Quite right. May I present to you My Lord General Cornwallis." Her eyes widened, her hand shook as he gracefully kissed it. Never in all her years had she seen this man, though his name was known throughout the entire world. At every party, at every meeting, on every document his name was talked about with the utmost sincerity, the utmost respect, the utmost loyalty. It was like she was staring at the King of England himself. Cornwallis was known as a hero in England; a perfect gentleman whose intelligence excelled beyond the normal individual. She had stolen several of his documents written to other officials- he boasted of flawless victories and practically zero defeats. She saw him as a threat. King George was nothing but a tyrant with no disregard for freedom. Cornwallis was the backbone; the wolf that could sneak into the village and kill the prey before the farmer sees what he's doing. 

Her breath quickened. The information she could pick off him could save this war. It could undoubtedly cause the needed blow in the chest to end a fight for liberty, a fight for justice. His eyes never wavered from hers. _Can he see right through me? _She wondered. 

"Pleased to meet you, my lord. I've heard nothing but powerful things of you." To this, he smiled delightfully.

"Yes, my dear, the general, along with a few other officials are staying with us for dinner. May I persuade you to get ready?"

Smiling sweetly, she bowed to her elders and entered the mansion. Inside, standing by one of the many angel statues, she was even more surprised to see a young man dressed in an officer's uniform, though he could not be older than twenty. He was bending over, and she observed with quiet amusement the foul terminology he expressed as he picked up several broken off bits of the effigy. Kristina cleared her throat, signaling her existence. 

He instantly rose, and, having seen the intruder, blushed copiously. He fidgeted with his brown locks of hair. "My lady, I'm so terribly sorry, I was admiring the exotic carpet when I bent over and the statue fell and I tried to-"

She cut him off with a heart felt laugh. "It's quite all right good sir. May I inquire as to your business in my father's house though?" He stared at her for a minute, and for an instant she thought he misunderstood her. Finally he spoke again.

"YOUR Miss Kristina Doyle?" Another minute of silence followed. She awkwardly looked down at her shoes, not knowing what to say. What did this boy want, anyway?

"I'm sorry, I kind of lost track for a moment. This is not the introduction I wanted, nor is it one I normally make to people, I assure you. I am Colonel Evan Tavington, at your service, m'lady."

At hearing his name her smile instantly vanquished, and was replaced by a look of extreme horror. "Ta-Tavington?"

His eyes bore down on his coat. "Yes. My uncle was William Tavington, recently killed in action serving his Majesty in duties for the Crown of England." She found it hard to breathe. Suddenly that day, that awful day came snarling back into her head. _Those eyes, those cold, dark eyes_. _The look of shock_. The sudden realization hit that she had killed a man, a man who had not tried to kill her; a man who was a guest in her house frequently. Her throat swelled, her eyes blurred. Would this nightmare never end? 

Suddenly she realized she was laying on the ground, her head being patted by the young man. Her eyesight returned slowly, and her breathing steadied. She looked over and saw her father on her right; Cornwallis peeking behind. 

"Kristina? Dear? Are you alright? What happened?" He demanded of the boy.

"I'm sorry sir. I introduced myself and she started breathing really heavily and she just…collapsed."

Her father nodded. "Of course. Your uncle was a dear friend of ours, and no one had told her of his untimely death in the field. Come on, Kristina, let's see you sit up." With the help of Evan Tavington and her father, she slowly got to her feet. After repeatedly telling her father over and over she was alright, he and Cornwallis left, leaving her and Colonel Tavington alone once again.

Sighing with anxiety, she turned to Evan. "I'm so sorry mr. Tavington, I don't know what came over me."

He brought her over to a chair, where she willingly sat down. "I believe it is I who should apologize. It is not my place to speak of death on having just met you." Again, he was blushing. 

Feeling bold, she spoke freely. "Did you know him well?"

To this he hesitated. "Well enough to know he loved his country, not well enough to know him personally. He was held in the highest regards in our family, and my father persuaded me to join the army as soon as I could so that I might one day be under Colonel Tavington's wing." She nodded her head, too tired to think to ask anything further about Tavington.

"May I get you a drink of water, miss?" One of the new maids asked. She nodded once again and returned her stare at Evan Tavington. He looked nothing like his uncle. His face was soft, yet a twinkle crossed his eyes that made her smile once more. 

"Are you well enough to walk, Miss Doyle?"

Gulping, she replied, "Yes, I believe I am." He took her hand ever so slightly, and together they made their way out the back into the garden, and for once in her year and a half of spying, she didn't even think about the war.

*******

"ANNE!!!" He woke up sweating, his heart beat racing to the point where it hurt his chest. He clutched his blanket, and looked around, hoping no one heard. Gabriel was in his tent, the moon could still be seen high in the shadows that was the evening night. He brushed a tear aside. Every night her face plagues his mind; every night he envisioned it brutally smeared in a different fashion. He heard footsteps approaching the tent. Before his father could walk in, he turned over to his side and closed his eyes. 

He wanted this war to be over. He wanted to see his family- his brothers, his sisters- he wanted to return to the farm, start over. Could anything be reversed? He wished he had never met Anne. He wished Tavington had never come to America. He wished with all his heart that that Kris girl would have just let him die.


	6. Anticipation

Chapter 6

Kristina was delighted to learn that Colonel Tavington, Lord Cornwallis, and a few other officials were to stay with them til the coming Saturday, which was five days hence. She sent word to Jane and the girls through a trusted employee of the estate; knowing full well what their faces would look like once they received it. In case the letter was somehow intercepted, she had carefully arranged the wording so that no one could possibly think it nothing but an available bachelorette's girlish invitation.

Dearest Cousin,

_I daresay I miss you quite fiercely, and I hope my next stay will be a longer one. Once again I thank you for your generous hospitality. I am pleased to inform you of some most advantageous news. My father has decided to throw a grand ball this Friday, and I am allowed to bring guests! You and whomever you feel comfortable taking are to arrive precisely at ten o clock Friday morning, and father says you may stay as long as you like! Many fine young gentlemen will be there, as well as various bureaucrats including the great Lord Cornwallis himself! He is, in fact, staying with us right now, and he has delightfully warned me of several officers he would like to introduce. I cannot wait to engage in conversation with them, and hopefully at least one will steal my heart away. I await your arrival most anxious._

Your truly,

Kristina Doyle

She shivered at the folly the letter contained, and prayed to God she never turned out to be one of those desperate women always feeding off wealth and power; balls and gowns. They were the stereotype that prevented a woman's achievements in literature, medicine, and even teaching; they were outcast to the household, where only tittle-tattle and discordant giggling pursued. Hopefully Jane could read in between the lines and see the letter for what it truly meant. She needed all her spies present. This ball was with out a doubt the most important meeting for the British officers; obviously plans for the upcoming battle would be discussed. 

Getting the information would be quite impossible. Her estate would be highly guarded; if any spies were present, they would surely be caught and hanged. Kristina thought back to what Benjamin Martin had told her. He had blatantly acknowledged his contempt for her fairly 'sexual' methods in acquiring critical information, but at the moment, it seemed his words could not fully grasp their significance. She was too close, this was too important, and her girls would not listen anyways. They would do what they had to do. This was much bigger than themselves. She couldn't see how men could die for independence and be considered heroes in society, but women who sold their bodies for freedom, liberty, and equality could be regarded as sluts. 

Was she wrong in thinking this? Somehow her stomach lurched every time she 'used' a man to get what she needed. Whether it be a simple flirtation or a one night stand, every time she walked away with some form of information she couldn't shake the idea that there were better ways; ways that did not condemn her innocence.

And what of the British Colonel Evan Tavington? Was he to suffer the same deceit as the rest? She recalled the day before, when they walked hand in hand in the garden. Never before had she felt the need to trust the enemy, but this one was different. She remembered their conversation quite clearly.

"What are you opinions of this war, Colonel?" She had asked as she picked a daffodil. He had grinned widely.

" A soldier never expresses opinion, never questions his responsibility; he obeys his officer and fulfills the duties of the British Royal Military."

To this she had laughed and shook her head. "Sir, you are giving me a most refined answer. And as an officer, YOU are the one who makes opinions to your soldiers. As my guest, you must speak truthfully, or I shall have you disbanded from this house." To prove her point, she mischievously pointed her finger out to the dirt road behind. He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you threatening me, miss?" That same twinkle appeared in the depths of his eyes. 

"MISTER Tavington, how dare you suggest such a thing." Both grinned again. "I was merely ascertaining the fact that my question was quickly answered with a definition rather than an answer of your own accord."

"Touché. All right, if you are so bold as to push the matter so far, I will give you my most opinionated answer about opinions. The sole reason I joined His Majesty's army was to attain power and wealth like any bureaucrat you see."

She stared deep into his eyes, not knowing what they held. Finally, with confidence, she spoke. "You are good at avoiding answers. I highly doubt your character is so shallow that money is by all means your obsession, so your response is quite insufficient. Continue." _Who knows how long this game will be played? _She thought. _Though it makes me laugh._

Sighing with indignity, he spoke once more. "Perhaps the American air makes you women so vivacious. My family decided that the military was the best thing for me, seeing as how my uncle had done so well for himself. Truth be told, I'm a peace loving man. I've seen the effects war has on people; on both sides. The Americans want freedom; perhaps it would be best if the King gave it to them, and end this mess. Importing and exporting between the two nations would resume, and no more blood would have to be shed."

She was quite taken aback, as she had thought he wouldn't be so bold as to be declaring how the King SHOULD do things. Still, it delighted her to no end, and all she did was nod.

Looking back on yesterday's events, her stomach felt queasy. Was she to perjure herself and spy on him too? This man who seemed to be the first decent soldier she had ever met? She couldn't think about that now. With any luck, this war will come to an end soon enough, and life will be, well, livable again. Then she wouldn't be in any position she didn't want to be in.

***************

She didn't know why she did this, but she sent another letter to Benjamin Martin within that very week, letting him know where General Cornwallis was staying. An immediate reply followed, saying how grateful he was to this. He requested her help, rather desperately in her mind. He didn't give away much in the letter, just enough to give her the idea that the American army was fewer in number and any information would hopefully sneak their way into victory, for the only alternative now was to play by wits, not strength and manpower. To this Kristina sighed with annoyance. Maybe their manpower would be greater if this man had just let her and her girls fight. 

Jane had always told her that Kris was too one sided; she couldn't see beyond the box in front, and it was her flaw that most discovered quickly. To still admire Benjamin Martin after his contempt for her 'militia' was breaking her normal character.

The ball was the following day, and she had a lot to accomplish. Not all her girls were able to attend. Some had families that were well known 'traitors' to England; while others could not possibly pass off as eligible bachelorettes looking for a man in uniform. Jane would be there, playing the friend to Kristina whom she had met at her cousin's. Two of her girls, Mary Wellington and Patricia Norfolk, had been 'hired' as a singing act for the ball. Both were beautiful girls who delighted in mens company from dusk til dawn, so getting information was just an act of pure fun. Elena Mandolin was the late Captain Mandolin's daughter; she holds as much hate for the British as Kristina. Elena's brother had been accidentally killed while loading a cannon against the Americans. Elena's anger was set forth when she overheard a good number of British officers laughing at the idea of such a 'stupid boy'. She was one of the first people to band together with Kris, and Kristina knew she was as trustworthy as they come. 

That night a thousand scenarios rushed through her head as she slept. _What if one of the girls was discovered? What if Kris herself was discovered? What if Evan found out she had killed his uncle? Why did this whole bloody war matter so much to her anyway? _To this question, she awoke, her heart pounding, tears gushing down her face, though she dared not shout out. _Don't EVER ask that again_, she told herself. Nobody knew the true reason why she fought, save Jane, who never reminded her of it. Suddenly a pain she had not felt for two years lashed out, and she gripped her bed. "Damn that man. Damn him to hell."


	7. The ball begins

Chapter 7 The Ball Begins

"Miss Kristina, It's so good to see you again, dear!" Mrs. Ellington, the wealthiest widow on the East coast, proclaimed. 

Kristina simply nodded, her eyes distracted for the time being on a certain gentleman only a few feet away. In the few times she had spoken with him, her worries; her troubles; her fears; everything lifted off her mind. She was herself. She was free. He made her laugh in such a way that she had never known. He stole a glance at her also, before returning conversation with a fellow officer. For a moment she forgot that she was here at the ball to spy, not to play the eligible daughter. The ball was going delightfully well, and everything was in place. If times were different, Kristina actually thought she might enjoy a ball like this. But she had a job to do.

Seeing Jane nearby, she excused herself from Mrs. Ellington and quickly walked to meet her friend. Looking in either direction, they stole away from the party and went into the nearest room, quietly locking the door. Feeling safe, Kristina spoke.

"Anything?"

"Nothing of value so far, Lady Kris. These officers wouldn't be stupid enough to talk of the war before dessert was served. However, Mary and Patricia have already set their sights on two fine looking soldiers accompanying them on the piano. I've know doubt this won't be a total waste if they have anything to do about it." Kristina smiled at her friend's choice of words. 

"Good. Anything from Elena?"

Jane shook her head. "I haven't had the chance to speak with her yet."

Kristina opened the door and whispered once more to her ally. "In a few moments time I will run up to General Cornwallis' room, while you ask him to dance."

"Me, miss? Honestly, Lady Kris, he IS married you know. And I would rather eat dirt."

Kristina laughed whole heartedly. "It's the only way I'll know for sure he's distracted. Please Jane, it's for the cause." Her friend grunted under her breath, but nodded. 

The song ended, and a waltz began. Kristina looked on as Jane went up to General Cornwallis; and laughed as they both begrudgingly set out onto the dance floor. She was about to head on upstairs when she heard her name called. She sighed with annoyance, and turned to see who it was.

"Ev-Colonel Tavington. I was just about to get a handkerchief from my room. Always forgetting things, you know."

His eyes were fixated on her. "I implore you, use mine." He pulled out one, and she rolled her eyes without him noticing. 

_Dammit_, she thought in her head. "Thank you ever so much."

"Miss Doyle, please, would you join me on the dance floor?" She was stuck. There was no way out of it. Her plan would have to be put on hold. _Oh, Jane is going to kill me for having her dance with the general for nothing_, she thought.

"Of course." He took her arm and they made there way out in an open space. She dared not look at Jane, who was certainly giving her the evil eye. Colonel Tavington was a true officer; he knew every step of the waltz, performing it flawlessly. He talked little, keeping his head held high. She thought this strange, usually he was playful with her when they were together. 

"Colonel you seem stiff tonight. Is anything the matter?" She asked blatantly. He didn't look at her as he spoke.

"Nothing that concerns you, Ms. Doyle. I daresay it'll be over soon." She didn't know how to take this comment. What did he mean? "Ah, Ms Doyle, will you excuse me? I see an old colleague of mine." He strode away before she could utter "of course."

What was up with him? That didn't matter, her sensible side stated. What we need to worry about is upstairs at this very moment. Now was her chance.

She quietly made her way out of the ball room and up the stairs. No one was around, as the corridor only echoed in the faint voices of those downstairs laughing cheerfully. There it was; General Cornwallis' door. She turned it….locked, as she suspected. Looking left and right again to make sure the coast was clear, she went into the room adjacent his and opened the window. Making her way out onto the roof of her estate in her dress was no easy task, but she managed to do it without tripping or ripping anything. She walked a few feet and stopped, opening up the window to his room. It opened quite easily, and she sighed with relief. 

Inside, she carefully lit a candle and brought it over to his desk. Searching the front, she saw piles upon piles of paperwork. "Oh God, this will take all night!" she exclaimed out loud. 

Scanning each of them, she piled ones that she thought was useful into her corset. As she was about to read a recently opened letter, she froze. A creak was heard just outside the door, and as quietly as possible, she went to the window. As she crawled outside, she heard the distinct sound of keys, and she hastened_. Blast_, she thought to herself, trying to free her dress from a nail by the window. Ripping her dress slightly, she shut the window and hurried over to her own, as his door opened. Carefully back inside, she raced downstairs and flew into the kitchen. Only then did she realize she had left the candle in Cornwallis' room. Slapping her forehead, she wnt to the nearest basin and washed her face. Jane, who had seen her run into the empty kitchen, swung open the door.

__

"Oh thank goodness. After the General and I danced he claimed he needed to get something from his room. I tried to stall him, honestly I did. Did he see you?" she anxiously enquired from her companion. 

Kristina rubbed her face with a towel. "No. I got out just in time, but I left the candle in his room." Suddenly another thing caught her attention. "Oh no! I ripped my dress as I went out the window. What if a piece of it is still attached?" She looked to her friend for an answer, any answer that would say the hopeful. Her friend couldn't reply. The music in the ballroom stopped, as gasps went throughout the crowd. Jane and Kristina went to see what all the commotion was about. Her green eyes widened in horror. 

She grabbed Jane's arm. Jane was just as shocked. Gabriel stood before them, dressed in a British soldiers uniform, hands bound behind his back as Evan Tavington held a gun to the back of his head. His eyes looked straight at Kris', but he said nothing. General Cornwallis practically flew down the steps to meet them. 

"Ah, Gabriel Martin, son of the infamous Benjamin Martin…the 'ghost' as it were, right on time," he said regally as he paced around his captive. Gabriel struggled against the ropes that bound him, but to no avail. "You didn't really think we wouldn't recognize you after all those raids and murders on my men did you?"

Kristina looked from Gabriel to Cornwallis to Evan, who was smiling. Was this what he was talking about earlier?

Evan got in Gabriel's face and spat. "Rumor has it that you killed my uncle. My family wants vengeance, and we shall get it," he whispered with hate. Kristina overheard, and shuddered. The Evan she knew was overtaken, he now looked and acted like his uncle. She saw the cold stare, that same one that she had killed. Was he who she thought he was?

"Your uncle killed my little brother and wife. He deserved worse than death." Kristina gasped with shock, though she dared not make a sound outloud. Was that why Gabriel had so much hate? She had never asked him, nor his father, what had happened. She only knew he had lost someone. But a brother AND a wife? Her thoughts went back to years. No, not now, she thought in her head. I can't relive this now. She pushed it out of her head. "He and I are not so very different after all," she whispered to herself. Jane overheard, but said nothing.

Evan's eyes widened and he slapped the bound man. "Do not speak such lies! My uncle was a civilized gentlemen, who would never harm innocent women and children! You will pay for such insults on my family!" He raised his arm again, but the General stopped him.

"Colonel, you will retain yourself. This calls for a diplomatic approach." He walked on up to Gabriel. "I once had the misfortune of meeting your father, a most uncivilized man. I can see you maintain many of his qualities."

Gabriel raised his head. "I take that as the highest compliment."

The General did not move. His lips were once again tight as a fist. Captain Doyle reached over and whispered something in his ear. The General nodded. 

"Quite right. Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the inconvenience we have given you." He nodded to two soldiers. "Take him to the barn." They kicked Gabriel to his feet, and rushed out the door. Kristina tried to follow, but Jane held her back.

"Not this time, Lady Kris. We'll get him later." Kristina gulped, and it burned her mouth. Colonel Tavington angrily walked upstairs and General Cornwallis went with the soldiers to the barn. She needed any and all information she could. Could she still trust Evan? It was worth a try in her mind. She followed him upstairs.

His room door was slightly ajar. She knocked first, and when no answer came, she stepped in. Evan was on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. His eyes were so statute, she couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling.

"Colonel?" she whispered slightly. He turned to face her, and turned back to the ceiling.

"I couldn't keep my composure, could I? I must have looked frightful."

She sighed, and decided to speak the truth. "Yes, you did. It scared me a bit."

His eyes were still on the ceiling as he spoke. "I didn't know what to think. Here he was, the murderer right in front of me, practically grinning at me. I knew he would be there. A soldier intercepted a letter from him to some unknown source in the house saying he would come disguised."

"Evan, I-"

His eyes turned to face her, and he sat up. "Kristina, what if what he said was true? I didn't know my uncle. When he said those things he said, I looked to General Cornwallis, and he didn't look stunned at all. It's like he KNEW it was true. But how could a Tavington kill women and children? The few tales I've heard of officers killing the innocent made my skin crawl. Soldiers are condemned for it. It's…its not…I mean…..it can't be true of my uncle, can it? It would shame my family name." He looked at her in a whole new light. 

"Kristina, you KNEW him. Your father and he were friends. You fainted when I mentioned his name. He couldn't have done such things, could he?"

Her breath quickened. What was she to say? Lie to his face, or tell him the truth? Tell him that she, infact, was the one who killed him? "I daresay I did not know him that well. He…I mean…I'm sorry, Colonel Tavington, I can't tell you what you want to hear."

His flushed face looked down. "So it is true, isn't it? I had heard the stories of the dragoons before, but I chose not to believe them. I couldn't. It goes against everything I believe, everything I cherish."

"Evan, your uncle…I've seen what he does. You need to know the truth. I've seen the letters given to my father from him, boasting of lives taken and land conquered. He did it by all means necessary."

"Why do you tell me this?"

"Because I don't want you to be naïve in thinking all British soldiers are fighting for a just cause. When we first met, you yourself told me you didn't know what you were fighting for, you were just doing your duty to the crown. Please, Evan, I tell you this not to hurt you but to help you, so that you know what lies beneath the crown of England."

His eyes, which were wide throughout the whole conversation, narrowed. A new face took hold of him, the same face she had seen downstairs. "Even if this is true, you are dangerously overstepping your boundaries as a loyal British subject. If my uncle did those horrendous things, do not be quick to judge our King by them." She was getting in deep water. One minute Evan seemed on her side, the next she saw nothing but his uncle inside. He was torn, she could tell, between what he had been raised to think, and what was right. Could she persuade him?

"Please do not put me in such a position, Evan. You know me better than that."

Something lifted from him, and he softened. "I'm so sorry, my dear Kristina. I was dangerously on the verge of accusing you of being a rebel to the crown of England. Please forgive me."

Her eyes started to well. She hated lying to him, and his last statement made her realize he would never take her side. He was too induced by the crown to see past it for what it really was. She had not made an ally. 

"What is to happen to the boy you captured?"

"Most likely he will be hanged, but a diplomatic solution might arise, for he IS the son of the feared Martin leader. I care not what happens to him."

She knew she was taking a risk, but it needed to be asked. "Even if your uncle DID kill his family?" He was silent for a moment.

"We are at war, Kristina. I've come to realize that there is no solution to anything that involves war. At this point, it is an eye for an eye. Please, I would very much like to get some rest now, Ms. Doyle."

She obediently left, with plenty on her mind. One thing was for sure. She had to free Gabriel. She did not like him as a person, but she felt what he felt. He was her equal, in many ways. And of Evan Tavington, she did not know. Her feelings for him had grown strong, but he was not someone to trust right now. If circumstances had been different, perhaps her feelings would not be so puzzled. 

After the ball was over, and most had retired or made their way home, Kristina went down another corridor. She knocked on Jane's door, who was staying in one of the many guest bedrooms.

"We leave tonight. I fear we are no longer disguised. And we will take the Martin boy with us."


	8. The rescue attempt

*****

Gabriel thumped back and forth across his tent. The Martins and their militia had once again met up with the Continentals, in the valley across from King's Mountain near the North Carolina border. Fall was beginning to approach. A slight breeze befell upon the army during the day, and the nights began to shiver. The colors of landscape changed from victorious green to uncertain orange, yellow, and eventually brown.

His father had just received word from Kristina Warwick that there was a ball held at her estate, only ten miles south of where he stood. His father had given the men strict instructions not to attack while civilians were around. Nathaniel Greene and his men were supposedly coming from the north to join the Continentals. The British army lay just over King's Mountain, which was more like a ridge, about a mile away. Gabriel knew that Cornwallis would attend this party as soon as he left his headquarters at Fort Bridgewood. Rumor has it that he was going to lead the army straight at the Continentals. 

Gabriel sighed. Benjamin was stressed beyond belief. No one knew what the Lord General had up his sleeves. They needed more information, but Miss Warwick only had said in her letter she'd TRY to get information. That wasn't good enough for Gabriel. What she'll do is get caught, he thought in his head. And that wouldn't be much good to the Continentals or his militia. They needed a plan. 

Tapping his fingers against his side, he crinkled his forehead. His eyes narrowed. Could he possibly? Taking a quill and piece of parchment, he sat down and began to write. Perhaps if he went to this ball, disguised, he could find out the information the colonists needed. He would need Miss Warwick's help though, and he grumbled as he wrote. He can't let this girl mess up everything. She already messed his life up, and he wouldn't let her destroy everything that their cause stood for. He would go to this ball, and retrieve everything he could find.

******

She lay on her bed, tapping her quilts in frustration. It was well past midnight now. The only sounds to be heard were crickets singing their song of warning. She had thought about her plan of action over and over again. She watched from her bedroom window as the guards locked the door of her barn. In the process of closing the door, Gabriel had made one last attempt to escape by knocking the door open, which hit the guard in turn. The others were ready for this though, and one fat fellow hit Gabriel on the side of his face with the handle of his gun. Her fellow patriot went down, and stayed down. She gritted her teeth.

"The nerve of that boy sneaking here, thinking I couldn't do my job", she whispered. "I should leave him there. He almost gave me away!" She grumbled.

She got up from her soft bed, and went to her closet. In there she had hidden her knife, which she now connected to her corset. _Why am I doing this? _She thought. _Because it's the right thing to do, and you know it_, another voice inside explained. She put her hair back with a band. Suddenly the knob twisted on her door. She jumped into bed, covering her clothes with a quilt, and pretended to sleep. Footsteps slowly marched toward her, and her heart rate quickened. A hand gently shook her, and she acted as though she had been in a deep sleep, just waking up. 

"Wha…who'se there?" Her eyes slowly opened, revealing a young man by her side.

"Evan?" she whispered, totally taken aback.

"Kristina. I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior. You were right about a great many deal. I can't sleep at all, knowing what you said. I don't want you to think of me as some bloody officer that thinks only of himself". In his hand was a candle, and it illuminated his truthful eyes. She did not know what to say.

"I don't mean to come into your bedroom so late at not, it is most indecent. If your father or Cornwallis saw this act of disgrace, I'd surely be kicked out of the army. I- I just needed to see you. Do you forgive me?"

She nodded slightly. This man was ever changing his mind, saying one thing, doing another. She wanted to trust him so bad. She needed someone to trust in. She knew he meant what he said. He was a lamb lost among wolves in England. Can he possibly help her now, if she told him?

"Kristina, I-I-" he was leaning closer and closer to her. She found herself leaning too. This is not the time, this is not the time, she thought. I can't. I shouldn't. Her thoughts evaporated as soon as his lips touched hers. Suddenly she didn't care who was on whose side. She didn't care where she was. His arms wrapped around her, and she took them willingly. All those nights they had talked, all the laughs they had shared for the past week, it just seemed right for once. This was the relief she needed. She had not felt this passion since-

Without realizing it, she was already unbuttoning his shirt. Then his hand started to pull off her quilt when she froze. He would discover she was fully dressed, armed at that, not in a nightgown. She was supposed to be saving Gabriel, son of a man she truly admired. She pulled away.

"What's wrong?" He asked with concern.

"I'm sorry, Evan. I- I just can't, not now. I'm not ready."

He was disappointed, but nodded. "Your right. I'm sorry. I'll see youin the morning then, aye?" He placed a kiss on her forehead, and slowly closed the door behind him. She sat in her bed, her breath loudly sighing in and out.

After fifteen minutes, which she was sure he had gotten back to his own room, she slightly opened the door. Peering about, she placed her left foot out into the open. It was now or never.

She flittered down to the kitchen, where Jane was waiting for her. She bombarded her friend with questions. Where had she been? What was taking so long? Kristina just waved her hand.

The front door was being guarded, the kitchen door was not. She stepped out into the grass, which itched against her ankles. Jane stealthily went over to the stables, where she would get the horses to leave with. Both girls had brought nothing with them. Kristina headed towards the barn, keeping to the bushes to avoid being seen. Three guards stood by, but the door was now open. The back was not being watched. Good, she thought. A few years ago she had digged a hole underneath the barn with one of her slave friends. Knowing her father would be furious, she never told him, but secretly swept the boy food from the kitchen every night. He had lived alone in the barn, until one day Captain Doyle saw fit to sell him. She hoped the hole was still there. She had covered it with grass. Sure enough, it was still there. She took away all the grass and peeked under, without going through. A desk blocked the way in, but she could still hear voices.

One she recognized as Cornwallis. "The Continentals are planning something, I can smell it. They wait at King's Mountain just south of our men. Tell me, what are their plans?"

She heard the sound of spit, and smiled in spite of herself. The boy has guts. Her smile faded when she heard Gabriel scream in pain as a whip sliced across his back. She could see her father holding the whip.

"Restrain that whip, Captain." Cornwallis demanded.

"But sir, he will not say anything."

"Then he will be hung as a traitor. But he will not be tortured, not by any civilized men here. I am going to bed. Bribe with whatever you like, Captain, but do NOT persecute him. I do not want these militia to make a martyr out of him." He stood erect, walking with precision as he triumphantly exited the barn, back inside the estate.

Her father turned back to his prisoner, smiling slightly. "Well now, its just you and me. And my Lord isn't here to stop me, so you had better fess up something." No reply came.

"Good, I like it this way." Through the crack she could see him kicking Gabriel over and over; in the chest, the ribs, the stomach. She heard a rib break. Her father nodded to a guard to put a cloth over his mouth, making his screams of agony useless.

She had to act, but she would surely be caught. Every moment Gabriel was hit, she cringed. She exposed her knife to her hand, grasping it hard. She was about to push the desk over when she heard her father sigh.

"Well, that will be enough for tonight. Think about what I said, aye chap?" He walked toward the front of the barn, then turned back. "Oh, by the way, I heard the story of Colonel Tavington burning that church and killing everyone along the Santi. Though Cornwallis never shared that spirit, I felt obligated to praise Tavington for a job well done. All you colonists are traitors to the crown, and deserve to die a traitor's death." With that he left, slamming the door behind him.

Kristina felt tears smear down her face. How could her own flesh and blood feel such hate? This was not the first time he had said those words. She hated him. She wanted to kill him.

Soon, her heart said. Soon.

Making sure the coast was clear, she gently started pushing the desk over and over, until her body could squeeze into the barn. Gabriel looked to see where the noise was coming from. When he saw Kristina, his heart raced. He was still gagged, but he tried to move. It hurt.

The first thing she did was untie the cloth over his mouth. He choked a bit, but calmed down. He said nothing as she unbound the ropes on his hands behind his back. When those were free, he tried getting up, but found it difficult.

"Gabriel-" she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He turned away. "I don't think I can get up."

She winced, knowing this was going to hurt him. "You don't have to yet. Crawl to the hole in the barn. Horses will be waiting on the opposite side." he nodded, and began the painful creeping, trying to make as little noise as possible. She, meanwhile, went up the ladder and took the hidden musket. The bag right next to it contained only five bullets.

By the time she made her way back down, he was almost out. She got on all fours and followed him. When she reached the outside, she found Jane with two horses. One was Cornwallis' (Kristina laughed inwardly at that), the other was Kristina's. Jane smiled at the two. Both girls helped Gabriel to his feet. She knew he was screaming inside, but she needed to get him on her horse. Finally, he was on, and Kristina climbed on behind him. He still had a huge gash on his head, and his eyes were dilating. She knew he would be out soon. She kicked her horse forward, with Jane behind her. They were almost to the edge of the estate grounds when she saw two horses speeding towards them. One was a guard. The other was her father. They were now exposed. There was no going back. 

"Kristina!!" She heard her father scream. Then the sound of a bullet grazed her shoulder, but not enough to make her fall. He was shooting at her!

"Jane, speed ahead. I'm going to fire back." There was barely any pain anymore.

"No! Lady Kris, we don't have time!"

Kristina groaned. She wanted vengeance on that man. Now might be her only shot. Gabriel was slowly slipping from the saddle as he slipped through unconsciousness. Stay the course, her mind told her.

She wrapped her arms firmly around him, making it impossible for him to fall, as she urged her horse forward. Lights were now on in all the house to see what was going on.

She didn't look back again. She couldn't.

******

She knew they couldn't reach the army by morning. Gabriel needed to be tended to, and her arm needed to stop bleeding. After 3 hours of hard riding, they stopped by a brush that easily cloaked them from harm. Gabriel was awake once more, and he screamed as they took him off the horse.

"Please be quiet" Kristina whispered as she bound her slight graze with a cloth.

Gabriel was still slightly woosy, but he sarcastically stated, "I'm sorry. I really want those redcoats to come in find us."

Her patience was thinning. She thought maybe they could start over, be friends. 

Jane informed her that she would go keep watch for a couple hours. Kristina thanked her.

Gabriel stared at the girl before him. This was the second time she had saved him, and yet he still tried to annoy her. He didn't understand. His ribs hurt the most, but he dared not mention that.

He lay down on his back, breathing heavily. He looked up at the clear sky, where it seemed the whole galaxy came out tonight. "Thank you." He stated.

He looked over at her. It seems she didn't hear him. She was glancing up at the stars like him, only she was mesmerized. Her eyes were beginning to form tears. He continued to stare. Suddenly she caught on and looked away. "I only did it because I respect your father."

"Why is that, anyway? Your British. Why do you want to fight with us? You have no reason."

She angrily stared him down. "You and I are a lot alike, Gabriel Martin. But one thing distinguishes us."

"And what is that, Miss Warwick?"

"You fight for a family that loves you. I fight for my own accord."

He was confused, and he wanted to push farther. "You heard what Tavington did to my wife….my little brother. He murdered them. I fight for vengeance. You don't need to be involved in this war."

"How DARE you." Oops, wrong thing to say, he thought. "You think you know me? Let me set you straight, Mr. Martin. My name isn't Kristina Warwick. It's Kristina Doyle." His eyes shot wide. Captain Doyle was the one who had mercilessly kicked him over and over. He was, very much, like the man that had killed his wife. A cold, evil man.

"Why did you lie to us? To my father?"

"I didn't lie. I choose to not go by that name. I go by my mother's name. Surely you can understand my reasons for that."

Things were still unclear, but he was starting to think there was more hate in this girl than he thought. He didn't like her because he thought she was fake. That she didn't have a cause. That she shouldn't be trying to get herself killed, because that was what Anne did. What his position put her in. He didn't like Kristina because she had been the one to pull the trigger, she had spared his life, at the cost of his agony. She had refused him of his vengeance.

Now, though, he was thinking in a new perspective. He didn't know what to think. This girl still wasn't telling him everything.

"I know why you hate me Gabriel. I know why you hurt. But I had to kill him. I couldn't see him kill more patriots, more innocence. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself, knowing that I could have done something. I wasn't going to stand back and let history repeat itself, with me being on the sidelines! I'm sorry I kept you alive, I was only doing it for ME!" Her voice was getting louder and louder, tears flooding down her face.

Gabriel gulped. She really was killing herself inside. But not everything fit. He spoke softly. "I don't hate you. The only reason I ever insulted you was because I had just lost my wife. I was grieving, I was angry, and I took it out on you. I should be thanking you for giving me a second chance."

She just shook her head, her voice whimpering. She hated crying, especially in front of Him. He was making her relive her nightmares. Evan made her forget them.

She tried to make her voice level. Maybe she needed to tell him. He would understand. But that would make her remember. 

"Get some rest." She stated, turning over on the ground. He could see her shoulders still jerking up and down, as she cried for the rest of the night.


	9. A past revealed

Chapter 9 ***This is by far my favorite chapter. I don't know why, I guess its because a lot of things will be revealed, and its more emotional? Please review, I need to know what people think.*****

_"Gabriel Martin, I'm gonna kill you!!!" The eleven year old girl screamed as she ran after the chuckling boy. Her brown curls bounced as she ran her heart out, not enough to catch the culprit. Gabriel bounded out of the town, past the tree and to the open field, looking back every couple of seconds to see if she pursued. He laughed whole heartedly against the breeze. She stopped by the huge tree that marked the town, and stamped her foot. She had politely been playing tea with the Martin boy against his will, and while she got the biscuits from the kitchen, he had put ink in her tea. It was a good joke, one he would relish telling his brothers. When his father found out, Benjamin had scolded his son fiercely with a spanking, something Gabriel was too old for and therefore thoroughly embarrassed by. _

Even at the age of eleven, Anne was beautiful.

He awoke just as the sun was beginning to make its way up the sky. No one told the sun what to do. It came up when it wanted to. It was free.

"We're about a mile from the campsite. You ready to go?" Gabriel nodded, as he tried to sit up. Oh God, everything hurt. Hands grasped his, and an arm pulled gently on his back. He looked into her eyes, and saw a wall. While she was asleep, he had thought about what she said. He had been insensitive. He poked and prodded too far, and he didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. He was a Martin all right. 

He mounted the horse, gritting his teeth. That broken rib would hurt for days on end. The ride took about fifteen minutes, they walked the horses. Pursuit by the British was unlikely, now that they were so close to the camp.

When they rode in, someone went to fetch Benjamin. He returned shortly, a look of both anger and relief spread across his face. As his son dismounted, he hugged him severely. A little too severe.

Gabriel groaned. Benjamin pulled away quickly. "You disobeyed my orders, corporal!" he yelled into his son's face. Gabriel just grinned.

"Sorry colonel. I guess I take after my father." Kristina smiled, watching the two Martin men. They were so alike.

Benjamin's eyes fell upon Kris. "Miss Warwick." He nodded. She nodded back.

"What happened?" He questioned Gabriel. Gabriel looked to the two women beside him. 

"Well, uh, you see, I went to make sure Ms. Doyle here-"

"Doyle?"

"It's a long story. Anyways, I was caught, and she saved my life. Again." Mr. Martin, the man she had heard wondrous tales of, smiled. He stretched his arms and hugged her. She was quite taken aback at first. She wasn't expecting such a reaction from an army man. It felt good. Very good.

"I almost forgot!" She realized, pulling documents out of her corset while her cheeks shone a deep red. "I managed to get a few things before your son here wrecked the ball." She gave the pieces of parchment over to him, who eagerly received them. He read them silently, his eyes narrowing and widening every other line. Without a word, he went into the Lieutenant's tent. 

_Hmm, _she thought inwardly. _Must be important. I wish I had the chance to read them before I gave them away._

He came back out two minutes later. Kristina needed to talk with him. "Mr. Martin?" His eyes darted to the girl in front of him. 

"What is to happen with me and my girls? The secret is out. We have no more usages as spies. I was wondering, sir, if perhaps we could-"

"No," father and son said together.

This was going to take careful answering. "Mr. Martin, what do YOU propose we do?" Her arms were folded over her chest, something his wife used to do long ago to feel superior. She always won those arguments.

"I cannot thank you and your girls enough for all that you have done. Perhaps we can find some sort of refuge for you all to hide in or-"

"Hide in? Mr. Martin, you of all people should realize that we will do nothing of the sort. Have you heard of the patriotic women like Molly Pitcher and Nancy Hart? They fight for this newborn country as well, and the men do not condemn them to sit at home and knit while battles are being fought on their doorsteps. If we stay here with everyone, we don't have to necessarily fight. We could raid supplies, bring water, fill the cannons, anything. We are spies, and will be hanged as such. I am not someone who will dig a hole and disappear in it while others fight in my stead. And neither will Jane, or any of my girls." Her voice never cracked, but both Martins seemed to think her funny, as they were trying to contain their guffaws.

"What is so amusing?" She shoved her hands on her hips.

Gabriel answered with a smile. "Ms. Doyle, I believe you could take down the whole British army if you wanted to single handedly. Her eyes narrowed. She hated being the center of ridicule. _Oh well_, she thought. _At least they aren't saying no._

That night Kristina commanded Jane to gather all the girls and send them over to the camp. A battle was brewing, everyone could tell. The sun now left the sky earlier and earlier, it was early October. Kristina sat inside her tent, rebandaging her arm. It had stopped bleeding, but just to be safe, she had put more ointment on it to ward off infection. Benjamin sauntered in.

"Looks like a graze," he said, pointing. She nodded, rolling the cloth around her arm tightly. "How'd you get it?"

She knew this would happen. But, for some reason, it was easy to talk to this man. "My father shot me as we were riding away."

She did not look up, but from his silence she could tell he was deep in thought. 

"Gabriel told me why you lied about your name." _Gabriel has a big mouth_, she annoyingly thought. "He never understood why you were helping in our cause. I think he's beginning to see."

She looked up. "Do you see, Mr. Martin?"

His blue eyes stared her down. "People fight because they lose something dear to their hearts. Even pacifists cannot avoid words like revenge and freedom. Their meanings are too great, as our their causes. I lost one son to this war, and everybody tells me to justify that by killing the enemy. I learned long ago that revenge causes nothing but more pain. The reason I fight now is so that my other children have a chance to live."

"I wish I could think like that. If revenge is a sin, then I will be a sinner when I take it. But right now, living without revenge is very hard."

Benjamin nodded his head. This girl has suffered greatly, and has no guidance to subdue her anger. He came towards her, and gave her a second hug that day, only this time he held on. 

"When the time comes, and you are given the choice of revenge or life, choose carefully. Be the better man…er…woman."

_Why did he have to be this way? _She thought, irritated and thankful at the same time. _He confuses me, he seems so right, but my head speaks otherwise. _They broke free of their embrace, and, with a swift pat on the back, he exited. Why couldn't he be her father?

All of her girls arrived by midday the following day. Everyone except for a girl named Lizzy, a prostitute from England that had been with Kristina's band for a few months. She was one of the girls that barely ever listened to Kris, taking her seductions too far; sleeping with several officers at a time even. She enjoyed it. One night Lizzy had finished seducing a guard, and afterwards, as she picked through his pockets, he awoke and tried to catch her. She took his knife and tried to stab him, but he shot her before the blade went down.

When Kristina heard this, her stomach felt queasy. She did not have much affection for Lizzy, who many a time called Kristina foul names for not letting her have 'fun' with the boys. Kris wasn't even sure Lizzy cared about this revolution for independence. The girl was happy to steal from the British, and that was that.

Still, the fact that a girl Kristina was in charge of was dead did not settle right. None of the girls blamed her; they all tried to soothe her, repeatedly stating what a fool Lizzy was.

After that, her morals were always in question. She spent the rest of the day alone in the woods. Was taking advantage of men the right thing to do, even if it was only to get information? Before she had always thought it was okay. Religion spoke out against such conducts, but she was never into religion, being as how her father always stated how devote a Christian he was. She wished God was real. But if that were so, then why can bad people claim him as savior too? It was one of the many questions she wanted to ask a minister, but because of her duties to the revolution, she had no time to think for herself.

Word had spread that the battle was to begin the following day, October 7, 1780. Cornwallis and his men had occupied South Carolina for over two years now. Tomorrow was the day they would retreat, she could feel it. Her father and Kris had come from England four years ago, at the start of the revolution. Captain Doyle had been summoned to South Carolina to get the Tories on their side. 

The girls were tense. Kristina told them that tomorrow they could help in any way possible. If they were scared of the fight, they could help with the wounded. If they knew how to load a cannon, they would be permitted to do so. Jane was the only one willing to use a gun. The rest did not know how. 

Kristina herself decided that the best thing for her would be to carry a gun and go out with the rest of the militia. The Martins did not know this, of course. They would surely tie her to a tree or something. But somehow, she knew her father would be out their, and this might be her only chance. 

It was well past midnight, but she still couldn't sleep. Footsteps were getting louder. She would have a visitor. Two eyes peeked through, and, seeing her awake, the rest of the body walked through quietly.

"Gabriel?" she questioned, even though she knew it was him. He took the liberty of sitting down next to her.

"Mind if I sit awhile?"

"Seems you've already done so," was her response. He smirked.

"My father wants me to stay here while the battle starts tomorrow." He waited for her reply.

"It is a wise choice, seeing as how you still limp and touch your side. You would be dead three seconds into a fight." He stared at her. "But you are a Martin, and I've learned that Martins do what they want to, not what is commanded of them."

"And you are one of the most stubborn girls I've met, and my guess is that you are not going to sit still while the men go off and fight tomorrow either." She said nothing.

"So we both like to disobey orders."

"And we both like to annoy the other," she said with a hint of a smile on her face.

"Is there any way I can convince you not to do something rash tomorrow?" he was half joking, half being serious.

She sighed. "You know the answer to that, Gabriel Martin. I have some business to take care of."

He shook his head. "If it is to get revenge on your father for hurting me, then I believe you to be wrong."

He was trying to get it out of her. He had let her inside his world, and he wanted her to do the same. For a moment she thought of Evan. Perhaps he was furious she was a traitor. Maybe he knew it all along, but said nothing because inside he supported her. She wanted to believe the second choice was true. HE did not make her life difficult. HE did not try to sneak inside her soul and extract what was aching there. HE took the pain away, because he was full of innocence. Gabriel was the exact opposite.

"Why must you prod me so?" she whispered, too afraid to hear what he said.

His passionate blue eyes flickered. "Because I think we are alike in one other way, and I think you are too afraid to open up with it because it will bring the memories back." He knew too much.

"Gabriel, please don't. Why do you care what I say?" She was being weak. She was giving in. Why did he have that ability?

"I have to believe that there is another that shares what I feel. I cannot go through this alone, and I don't think you can either. Let me in, Kristina. Let me in."

His voice was so soothing, so truthful. Before she could protest, her voice spoke all.

"I came here four years ago. My mother died on the way over, and it nearly killed my father. He was a harsh man, but her death made him pure evil. What he did to our slaves, our servants, and worst of all, prisoners of war…it was unbearable. Three years ago, I met a man." She could picture his curly blonde hair, dirty from the hours of work he spent farming the land. His playful green eyes always made her wonder. She had to let go. "His name was Ethan." It pained her to say it, she had not spoken it for what seemed like eternity. Memories were flooding back, too many to recall. "He was a hired farmer for my father's neighbor. He had no family, only himself to look after. We….we fell in love. Fath-Captain Doyle did not approve, of course. We snuck out to see each other on many occasions. All we had to do was see each other for a moment, and it would be enough to make us happy. He was also a spy for the Continentals. The man he worked for was also an officer in the British army. He stole anything he could get at. One day, he was caught. I begged my father to let him go, to save the man that I loved. He didn't look my in the eye. He locked me up in a closet and beat Ethan severely to tell him the whereabouts of certain rebels. I was finally able to break free, just as my father," she said that last part with such scorn, "drove his knife into Ethan's chest." She gulped. Gabriel was staring at the floor, his eyes misty. "I fell to his body, and he took my hand," She was speaking softly now, slower. "I held it. It was already so cold. His eyes still looked playful as he whispered how much he loved me." She closed her eyes, imagining the smile he had on when he died. He was happy to see me one last time. She continued on.

"Father dragged me up and threw me out of the room. I screamed and kicked the entire time. He had killed the only love I had ever known! In cold blood, he had murdered a man, right in front of my eyes. I cried for weeks, refusing to come out of my room. At times I attempted suicide, but was too chicken in the end. I thought of killing Father, but then where would I go? The only choice, it seemed, was to undermine Father from within. Help the cause for independence. But I swore I would get my revenge. And I plan to keep that vow." Her voice was sore when she finished. Her chest was blanketed in wetness from her eyes. Her hands were shaking. She no longer felt alive, but dead within. 

Gabriel sat there for a few minutes, taking it all in. He had lost Anne. She had lost Ethan. Tyrants from Britain had killed them both. She truly knew what pain he had in the pit of his stomach. Oh, how he wished he could take back the time he said she wasn't fighting for a worthy cause. He had thought of her as fake. His chest hurt, and not from his ribs. Love had come at a price for them.

He didn't know how long they sat there, in silence. Finally he gathered enough courage to gently put one hand on her back. She, in turn, fell into his arms, weeping profusely. He now gripped her hard with both arms, rocking her back and forth. She felt safe in his strong arms, like nothing could hurt her. 

It had been over a half hour. Eventually she had fallen asleep in his arms. He couldn't leave her, not now. She was so strong, so strong to endure so much pain. He hoped he could be of some comfort. But comfort cannot exist when pain is too great. Finally, his eyes dripped down, and he lay down on her bedroll, with his body closely knitted to hers. Soon their breathing flowed together, and peace was found.


	10. The battle

Chapter 10

The intense glare screeched through her eyelid, forcing her to roll over. The sun had just risen over the mountains, and its force paralleled the day before them. Kristina opened her eyes, to reveal a peaceful Gabriel by her side. She sighed, stretching her arms quickly and getting up quietly. She was drained emotionally, Gabriel had reached into a place she did not want to return to. Surprisingly though, she felt a weight being lifted off her shoulder. This was the day she would get her revenge.

Sleep had come so naturally the night before. Being in Gabriel's arms sheltered her from the world outside. She missed that feeling. Ethan made her feel safe, made her feel free. Evan made her forget. Gabriel made her remember, made her stronger. She did not know the meaning of the word love. She thought she had felt it when she was with Ethan, but she was too young to know for sure. She had cared for him deeply, and he would always hold that place in her heart that defined her compassionate nature. Today, I fight for your justice.

Opening her tent, she watched as soldiers jogged back and forth, gathering supplies and ammunition. A minute later Benjamin came up to meet her. 

Oh God, I hope he doesn't think-

Her thoughts were interrupted by him. "I hope you take my advice, Ms. Warwick, and stay out of the fight like I asked. In a few hours we will need you to help bandage up the men." She didn't look at him. Instead she stared at the leaves on the ground. They were at that stage where some were brown and withering, while others fought to keep a small green tip. She nodded. His eyes fluttered towards the tent for a second, then he looked back at her. Patting her shoulder, he moved on to the tents, arousing the men inside. 

Gabriel came out a second later, placing a new bandage around his side. He slid his slightly ripped jacket on, buttoning up the buttons. Some were missing.

An awkward silence followed. Kristina had heard him whisper "Anne" a few times while he slept. Maybe this would be her last chance to speak with him. 

"If you punch with your left, your right side won't be vulnerable". Kristina knew that after the armies foolishly tried to shoot each other from twenty feet away, they used their guns and fists as their weapons when they charged. He nodded. She could tell he wasn't going to say anything. What more could either say? The uncomfortable silence proceeded. Her cheeks turned a deep red. She had divulged private information the night before, and she was embarrassed. Perhaps it was best they never saw each other again. Then they wouldn't have to talk about it. She nodded her head, and went down a few rows of tents to where her comrades had slept.

About five girls stood outside Jane' tent, muskets in hand. The rest were probably off running errands for the soldiers. Jane greeted her with a smile. "I saw him come out of your tent."

Kristina playfully punched her friend. Jane was trying to rouse her spirit, she knew. "Do you have any extras?"

A revolver was tossed to her, as well as a bag filled with twenty bullets. "They told us no more muskets. They were running short for the men."

Kristina nodded, strapping the revolver around her waist with a belt. She changed inside Jane's tent, knowing her dress would not suffice. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, pulling up the typical brown breeches and cotton white button up shirt. From far away, she'd look like any member of the militia.

Her stomach growled. Looking to her right, she saw the soldiers beginning to make their way over the hill and beyond the remains of the stone building. Past that, she couldn't see.

The two armies would meet in the middle of the open field, the trees bordered them in a circle. "Jane, could you get Midnight's Eve for me?"

A few minutes later she returned with the chestnut mare. Kristina stroked her horse gently. It flicked its ears and swayed its tail in excitement. Mounting up, she faced her group of loyal girls. By now the men were all assembled out of sight. She hoped Benjamin's plan worked for the Continentals. She hoped her plan would work for her girls, too. "You have been informed by Jane what I want you to do. What we are about to do is to not be exposed to the Continentals. The girls with muskets will ride with me through the woods, surprising the British dragoons on the other side. We'll hide in the trees, retreating if they try to come after us. This is to be used only as a trick, to make them think we are part of the Continentals. We will stay out of sight." _Except I will not retreat_. She kept that to herself.

She continued. "The other girls will help all they can, whether it be bringing water to the men, stealing ammunition from the dead, or helping the wounded. Each job is critical, and it is equally dangerous. We've been together for a long time now. Lets not let all we have accomplished for the cause go to waste. God be with you all."

The group of girls in front of her each nodded, whooping and hollering within, so as not to arouse the Continentals around them. Kristina waited for some of them to mount up. When everyone was ready, she kicked her horse forward. "God be with you Gabriel" she whispered. A few soldiers glanced as they rode out, hopefully assuming they were leaving.

It was about a mile and a half to the other side. She counted her paces, and slowed down when she knew they were close. Dismounting, she ran low to the ground to a nearby bush. About sixty feet away, on the outskirt of the woods, she noticed about fifty black hats atop fifty horses. Motioning to Jane, the girls dismounted and each stood behind a tree. Kristina also got up and ran to the nearest tree with the clearest shot. Her heart was racing. She could start to hear the firing of shots from the field across from her. Cannons were being blasted. Screams were heard. She sighed deeply and quietly, closing her eyes. It was now or never.

Gathering enough courage, she stuck her gun out in front of the tree, and carefully aimed at the officer in the front. She recognized him immediately. It was Colonel Wilkins, a colonial loyalist who had been Tavington's right hand man. She had danced with him at the ball. He was a nervous fellow, always peering about. She aimed carefully.

Releasing the trigger, she watched as he fell to the ground, blood pouring from his side. She had missed a critical part. "Damn" she thought as she loaded her revolver again. Without a musket she wasn't accurate. The girls quickly followed with several shots. Two men fell, not getting up. By now Wilkins, clutching his side, was shouting "To the trees! Its an ambush!"

Kristina motioned for the girls to mount, ride hard back to camp. Jane nodded, obeying her friend. Kristina mounted her horse also, but spurred him sideways deeper into the forest north. The enemy did not see her. When all the dragoons had left, she dismounted and slapped her horse onward to wherever the mare chose. She was free.

The enemy army was in the clearing about 100 yards southeast of her. They were oblivious to the flight of their dragoons. The cannons had stopped firing. The militia was meeting the British army in a charge. She saw a lone figure on a horse ride out with the British footmen to meet the colonists. Her father. 

"No!" She shouted aloud. Her plan was to get him while he conversed with Lord Cornwallis, away from the battle. Then she knew she could be accurate.

She urged herself through the woods and towards the midst of the battle. He was not going to escape.

************

Gabriel watched as comrades went down left and right. This was all too familiar, and he wanted it to end. They needed to win. They were supposed to wait until the British fired two shots. Seconds of eternity progressed. Something whizzed by ear and he jumped to the side. His father stood a few feet away, not looking at the men falling, but at the enemy ahead. Finally, the moment came, and the militia fell back. Benjamin's voice boomed throughout the field, echoing in the distance. The British charged full force.

Gabriel stuck out his bayonet, hoping to catch a British officer's chest. It did. Kicking the man out of it, he pushed forward, using his musket as a kind of sword/club. Someone hit his side and he screamed in pain, but did not falter. His father was a few feet away, battling two men at once. The plan was working. The colonists were supposed to fall back while Cornwallis inevitably showed off by sending his full army to pick them off. What Cornwallis didn't know was that beyond the building ruins laid two thousand Continentals. 

After passing the stone ridge, Gabriel turned around. The British were coming. He couldn't help but smile. Benjamin called to him, and together they threw themselves on the ground as incoming British were hit by Continental muskets. Now they would strike again. Pushing forward, he flung the butt of his gun into a man's face. The dragoons, which by now had given up on the woodsmen, plunged into the battle. Gabriel jumped out of the way of one horse before its hooves could crush him. He watched as his countrymen started to sway, and fall back. "No!" he shouted. 

Looking to his left, his father snatched the flag out of a man's hands, dragging it forward. For a moment the battle stopped. Every single eye glanced over to see the worn flag flying against the wind, the man who held it barreling forward with no sign of defeat written across his face. Gabriel's mind flashed of Thomas, of Anne. This flag represented their suffering. This flag represented freedom. The men understood. 

Gabriel thrust forward, killing any man that tried to get in his way. They had to win. They just had to. This could be the turning point in the revolution. He wanted it to end. He ached. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone. Captain Doyle was atop his horse, shooting people left and right with his musket. 

*************

She could still see him. By now, most of the British army had been defeated, but they weren't retreating yet. He was still charging forward atop his horse. Her mother's horse, actually. Her favorite one they had shipped over on the voyage to America. How dare he ride her, she thought, eyes flaring.

He was only thirty feet away now. His back was turned to her. She could end her nightmares now. Just one click of the gun, and it would be over. A red coat advanced on her with rage. Without a bit of sorrow, she shot him in the head. Now the space was clear, this was it. Twenty feet…fifteen….he was so close, but she had to be close to make sure she got him. She cocked the gun.

Kristina pointed her revolver forward, a tear stroking down her cheek. "God help me" she whispered, her grip on the gun so tight she shaked.

Pain. Pain blast through her head. Her ears went deaf, her eyes blurred. She fell to the ground. The man, whose butt of his gun was now stained red, lifted his gun to smash her. She couldn't move away. No, she thought. This can't happen. Not yet. Not yet.

But the second blow never came. She looked up to see the man on the ground, shot in the chest. A horse stood over her. 

"Gabriel?" she whispered. The sun glared in the person's face, making it impossible to see.

She was quickly lifted atop the horse. Everything ached, she couldn't argue. The horse's rhythm increased, and soon the sounds of shots were in the distance. The battle was ending. The British were retreating. But why was she going towards the British side? She opened her eyes slightly. Her body was being held by arms behind her. The man was riding hard. She cocked her head to the side, to see the red coat of her rescuer. He smelt of blood. She turned her neck farther.

"Evan??" she exclaimed, before darkness claimed her.

**********

He watched with horror as someone struck Kristina. He was too far to get too her, too many people were coming at him. He kicked one man away, and stabbed another with his bayonet. The British were retreating. He could get to her now. He saw the gun go up against her head again.

Her father now noticed him. Before he got to Gabriel, Gabriel saw Evan Tavington shoot the British soldier, scooping Kristina unto his saddle.

"NO!" he shouted. Captain Doyle turned to see.

Turning back to Gabriel, he smirked. "Seems your rescuer is now back in my hands. And believe me, she is one mistake I will rectify." He charged Gabriel full force with his sword, and Gabriel barely deflected it. He attacked again, slicing Gabriel's arm as he moved away. Captain Doyle kicked him down face first into the dirt. 

He felt the tip of the musket against his head. Something hurt on his front. His knife was on his belt, his belt attached to him. The Captain couldn't see it. 

"Seems the war is over. Congratulations, you've won your freedom, at the expense of my daughter. She never loved me, you know. I bought her dresses, I gave her a horse, but she betrayed me. She fell in love with one of you rebels. She betrayed her country, really. But I took her back, thinking her mind was clean of your dirty ways. I guess I was wrong." 

Gabriel knew in the next second that musket would run through his neck. He had to be quick. A gunshot sounded as Benjamin raced to his son. Captain Doyle hugged his side, his eyes glaring at the new intruder. Gabriel flipped over, realizing his enemy was wounded, and drove the knife through his chest.

The Captain fell onto Gabriel, his chest not moving. Gabriel breathed in and out for a few seconds, taking everything in. His father lugged the huge man off his son.

"Are you alright?"

A hand was extended, and Gabriel took it, nodding. " Kristina's gone." He said, looking toward the British side. Only the dead remained, and a few stragglers. 

Benjamin patted his son on the back. "I saw. But the boy that took her saved her from getting killed. Perhaps he took her away from the army."

Gabriel stared off in the distance. "I have to find her, father. She saved my life".

Benjamin sighed. "I'll help you."


	11. Face off

Chapter 11

"Kristina! Gracious child, you've gone and ruined your new dress!" The lady that stood at the door was young, mid thirties, with two arms sticking powerfully across her chest, her heel making a light rattling sound against the hardwood floor. The girl stood across from her, her shoes muddy, her dress torn at the side and wrenched in dirt. She profusely tried rubbing it off, but to no avail. She looked up to see an outreached hand, and the woman laughing. 

"Come child. It's time to eat."

She awoke too fast, her head throbbing wildly.

"I said you better eat something." She looked to the man the voice belonged. She was outside, her body propped up against a tree; a warm fire crackled beside her, and a blanket hung over her worn body. 

"Evan." She stated. 

"Glad to see you don't have amnesia." A smile. What did it mean? She peered around, her eyes not quite adjusting yet. Everything appeared hazy and blurry but as far as she could tell, no one else was in sight.

"Forgive me, but I'm a bit confused." She noticed the hoarseness of her voice, and she coughed.

He blew on a spoonful of soup, and drew it up to her lips. She willingly accepted it. The hot fluid tingled a bit, but tasted heavenly.

"As you should be. I don't quite know what I'm doing." There was a slight crackling in his voice.

She sat in thought, trying to replay what was said the last time they spoke to each other. Oh yeah, they hadn't spoken at all. They had kissed. Her eyes fell back on him. He was facing her, though his eyes were transfixed somewhere far from reality.

"They told me you were a traitor, aiding the enemy. I saw Captain Doyle shoot at you. I didn't know what to think really. At first I was angry. You had lied to me, that whole time I exposed my beliefs you were secretly working for the Americans. Then I realized you have seen with your eyes what the British did to these Americans. You probably had comrades die by the hands of your father. And after that I couldn't blame you at all. Captain Doyle was in an uproar, saying things I dare not utter again. When I saw you on the battlefield, my mind was made up. I may be a soldier in His Majesty's army, but I am no savage, and I would not let tyrants hurt the innocent."

She couldn't believe this. "So now you'll be hanged as a traitor as well."

"If that is my fate, then so be it. I will die a civilized human being." Though it hurt her mouth, she smiled. 

"You can fight on our side, Evan. Help the cause of freedom. You can't possibly have a life with the British ever again."

"Miss Doyle, I have pondered that question for the past few hours, and I cannot in my right mind abandon my duty as a soldier. I serve His Majesty, and to retreat from his service, it will, it will disgrace my country. I cannot do that. You live here, Kristina. My home is across the Atlantic. Even though I do not agree with this war, Britain is still my home." Her heart quickened, her eyes closed. 

"If you return they will kill you. You will be labeled a traitor, a disgrace. Is that how you want to end your life?"

He bit his lip, looking away. "Of course not. But I am a soldier." She looked away to roll her eyes. Men were so dim-witted it was impossible to believe they could walk and talk at the same time! Evan is so imprudently honorable, while Gabriel so irrationally ignominious. Her father was hotheaded, rash, and a culmination of disheartening things. It seemed no man could ever not be so obdurate.

"It will be because of me that you die. I cannot accept that. Don't be so foolish" Her voice was rising, her fists clenched. She felt his hand on hers, and she trembled slightly, of not for his impulsive plan, but for those eyes he had, which were now transfixed on her and her only. 

"Evan, you just saved my life. You will kill me if you return to those bastards." His head now coiled to where her hands were on her lap. His arm took her hand, and he held it up to his face, his eyes closing. He kissed it gently. She felt cold to him, but soft, nonetheless. So soft.

His lips were warm on her hand. All pain caused by her head injury vanished, and her tense limbs lessoned their hold. Each kiss felt tender and passionate, and she found her mouth opening, long breaths escaping. Slowly, she put her arms around him as he kissed her bare shoulder, then her neck. His breathing was rapid and loud. His band around his hair loosened, and strands of hair fell on her shoulder. She gripped it tightly as his lips moved their way unto her cheek, then her mouth. It was fiercer than before. No hesitations, no awkwardness. He started unbuttoning her blood stained tunic, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was transfixed on the vibes he sent. The way he kissed, the way he gently caressed her back. It was like he knew what she wanted. She found herself ripping off his jacket, then his tunic beneath. Still, nothing seemed awkward. His body was still tan from the summer before, still toned from a soldier's workout. He wrapped her body around his, still kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

It was pure ecstasy. She felt alive inside, and she could not tell reality from fantasy. She didn't want to.

It wasn't until he started undoing his pants that her eyes opened. Reality flashed in front of her once more. Was she really about to give herself away to this man? Was he the right one?

This isn't right, her mind screamed. Her body thought otherwise. She vowed she would lose herself to the man she loved. Did she love this man before her?

The answer was not known. 'And not knowing is not yes', she thought. 

"Damn", she said aloud, accidentally. 

He opened his eyes, looking up into her face. "What is it?"

She pulled herself off him, quickly buttoning up her shirt. "I'm sorry Evan, I can't, we can't just…it isn't the right time. I- these circumstances produce such wild thoughts that just aren't-"

He sighed. "If your not ready, I understand. Perhaps I am not what you are looking for to begin with."

His statement made her eyebrows lift. He did not have a nasty undertone, but an enlightened one. "I know not what you mean."

"My feelings for you are true. You, on the other hand, have a heart that goes in so many directions right now I doubt you can make up your mind. I see the pain in your eyes, Kristina. You crave solace in all things around you just to comfort your strong heart."

Her head started pounding again. "I guess I am complicating my life a bit more right now." A new thought entered her mind, though she wished it away. "What- what happened to my father?"

"I know not. I carried you as fast and far from the battle before turning back to see what had happened."

She gulped. "Who won?"

"You bloody Americans, of course. Quite a brilliant scheme, I might add. The look on Cornwallis' face- well, you wouldn't want to know."

"Am I to assume, then, that you wish us victory in our cause?" She smiled, but noticed his faded quite quickly.

"Victory in freedom, yes. Victory over the killing of many a good British man, I will not say. Remember, dear Kristina, every war has its price. Not all the enemy is bad. At least, I hope you don't think that way. I'm not bad, however I am the enemy." Her pupils darted left and right, trying to find in herself the reasoning behind his statement. Slowly, realization hit and she nodded. 

"You have given me much to think about, Evan Tavington."

He took her hands once more. "Rest now. Tomorrow I will take you back to your countrymen."

"And where will you go?"

"To my fate", he proclaimed. To your foolish death, she thought, but dare not utter something so cruel. Here was the man who had traded his life for hers, and she was supposed to sit back and let him? She had to think of something, and fast. Sleep, it seemed, could be the only source of help right now.

***

Light had not yet reached the border to the end of the world, where the sun usually rose to greet the morning air. It was then that she woke, then that she planned on waking. His body was but a few feet away. His horse whinnied, and she put up one finger to shush it. 

The fire had died some time during the night, and a chill rang up her spine. Strands of her blonde hair fell on her face, and quickly she redid it back. "You may be an honorable man, Captain Tavington, but I will not let you be stupid," she whispered.

He moaned quietly, turning over. Her head continued to hurt fiercely, as if a rock was hitting it over and over. She paid it no mind. She packed up his things, securing it tightly on his beautiful chestnut bay. By then she noticed him stir. 

She sat down next to him. "Good morning." He said with a husky voice. 

"Aye, good night." With one swift motion she flung her elbow squarely into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious for a good few hours. "Forgive me" she whispered in his ear as she stumbled to put his limp body on the horse. 

Before she could think twice of her plan, she charged the horse forward, bearing east towards the battlefield. 

A few hours later she knew she was close. The stench of blood had fouled the air, and she coughed and held her nose. Soon she reached the clearing, and she gasped. The field was a sea of red. British and Continentals both flooded the field with their bodies, as soldiers looked for their friends and wounded. The American flag hung high over King's Mountain, and she couldn't help but feel sick.

The horse wanted to stop, but she kicked it forward. It took all the will she had to keep her eyes focused ahead as the horse awkwardly tried stepping over bodies of young and old. Tents were straight ahead, bearing the American symbol. Perhaps Jane and the others will be there. Perhaps the Martins will be there.

"LADY KRIS!!!!!!!" she heard it distinctly, though the figure was running from over four hundred feet away. She urged the horse forward, never feeling so joyous. 

She dismounted quickly and embraced her friend in a hug. "Jane we did it! The Americans defeated the English! For now, anyways."

Her friend didn't let go. "What's wrong?"

"You bloody tell me what's wrong! Gabriel came and told us that you had been captured by the British. I thought you were dead, you wench!" Never in her life did Jane ever speak to Kristina with such an equal tone. She had always presented herself inferior, though the two knew better. This wanted to make Kristina laugh, but she held it in.

"You silly child, I'm obviously not dead. Honestly, you think I can't escape from the British? You HAVE gone mad." For the first time Jane looked to the horse.

"Is that-"

"Yes. Now help me, I have to get him restrained in a tent before someone sees. I stripped off his jacket, so no one will think him a Redcoat." Her friend raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. As soon as he was assembled inside, they reentered the outside. 

"I will go tell the girls that you are alive and well." She started to run off, but turned back. "Lady Kris, I may advise you to tell the Martins you are back. The younger was in quite an uproar when he saw you being taken away."

"In an uproar?"

"More like crazy, insane, you name it. I've never seen him so…so outlandish."

To this she smiled. "Oh, that's just because you haven't known him that long. I will go tell them." Jane nodded, and left.

The rows of tents seemed long, and no one seemed to notice her amid the injured men. But somehow, word must have spread, perhaps through Jane, because in minutes she saw a man coming towards her, looking most disheveled.

He stopped nearly three feet away from her, and she didn't know what to think or do. His shirt was off, showing his bandage to his side. It had gotten bigger. A swell appeared on his cheek, and she realized she, too, probably had one. His eyes were so wide she thought they'd burst, and his lips never wavered.

She tossed the dirt with her foot aimlessly, willing him to make the first conversation. He made no such move.

"Well, I'm back."

"Is that all?" he barked. Okay, maybe she was the one to start the conversation. But suddenly she became angry. Who was he to bark at her?

"Is that all? Yes, fine, that is all, if you cannot muster to say anything else."

He sighed heavily, and he no longer spoke with aggression. "Forgive me, I do not want to shout again. But honestly, Kristina, you had…you had me worried."

"You, worried over me?" she haughtily replied. 

He scratched his neck. This wasn't going at all like he planned. "Get off it. I saw you being carried away to the Redcoats. You know it scared me."

To this she could not reply, so he continued. "I was about ready to go track you down but it seems you need no rescuer." To this she smiled, and so he did too.

"I wasn't taken to the British, Gabriel. A Captain, a friend, I'm not sure you met him"

"Humph"

"Or maybe you have- Anyway, he saved me and brought me into the woods to hide. He was going to bring me back here and give himself up to the British- some type of duty to the king or whatnot, so I knocked him out, brought him here, in hopes that the Britsih think we captured him, not him betraying his country. So you see, really I was never in any real danger."

He coughed in surprise. "You really are a piece of work, Miss Warwick." She bit her tongue and looked down. "Well, I supposed I better see this soldier fellow- what is his name?"

She froze. She had forgotten what his name meant to Gabriel, what it should mean to her.

"Evan."

He was bewildered by her informal answer, but could not think of anything to reply to it. No, something darker was filling his mind that he dare not discuss with her yet, until the time was right.

She could not tell him his last name was Tavington. Gabriel was rash, and would not listen to anything she said about how different nephew and uncle were. She had to keep it from him.


	12. Hopeless

*** This is a relatively short, emotional chapter…sorry, Im getting all teary girly crap. I promise, more action will come. And as to the Evan/Gabriel debate, don't rule out the idea that Kristina wont pick either. Gabriel DID just lose his wife…I believe…maybe 3 months prior to this chapter? And Evan has to deal with the British. I shall say no more.

And thank you for all my faithful fans for continuing to review and keep me writing. I love constructive criticism as well.****

She slept well that night for the first time in what seemed like ages. She did not bring up the subject of her father to Gabriel. She didn't know where he was, if he was still alive. But she did not want to know at this moment. The British suffered an immense loss the day before, and it would hinder them greatly in the war. Her revenge was not taken, but that would come soon. All her girls had done well, Jane reported, and they even saved a few lives. Kristina now knew that Evan was on her side, and indeed he cared for her. And Gabriel, well, perhaps he cared for her as well. It seemed that the tide had changed, and the sun would soon rise once more in her life.

A loud bird chirped from outside, and she wrinkled her nose in frustration and turned over, moaning softly. Even though her eyes were shut, the sun tried to flood in. 

"Miss Warwick, I believe its almost noontime." Her eyes shot open, and she slowly turned her back to see Benjamin Martin standing in front of her, his eyes glistening with happiness.

"And I believe this entire regiment deserves the chance to sleep in." He chuckled and sat on her bed as she sat up. 

"I'm glad to see your okay," he smiled, taking her hand into his. "Gabriel and I were quite worried about you." She looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a strong sense of admiration. She knew not of anyone worrying about her for a long time. 

"I'm just glad you both turned out alright. Mr. Martin, sir, I was wondering if you had the chance to look in on my..er…rescuer?"

His eyes twinkled. "AH, yes, your prisoner is more like it. He woke up rambling on about how insane you were and that we should let him go."

She bit her bottom lip. 

"Don't worry, my dear, whatever plan you have for him is entirely up to you. He is, in fact, YOUR prisoner of war." He didn't know. If Evan told Benjamin Martin that he was the nephew of Colonel Tavington, he might change his mind.

Benjamin knew what she was thinking, but said nothing. He very well knew who her rescuer was, but that mattered not to him. He wondered, though, if the young man knew that Kristina had killed his uncle.

"We move out in a few hours to get the injured to hospitals. I found some breeches and a tunic for you to wear. I'm afraid dresses in the Continental army are hard to come by." To this she smiled, and he bowed and left her presence. She sighed deeply.

It took her only a few minutes to get decent, and she immediately left to go see her captive. She opened the tent to find him sitting in a chair with ropes binding his hands. When he took notice of her, he shook his head, and a hint of a smile appeared on his face.

"You truly listen to no man."

Kristina began to unravel his binds. "And it took you this long to come to such an epiphany?" When his hands were free, she rubbed them gently. "I'm sorry I did what I did. I knew not of any other way. You presented me with limited plans."

He took her hands into his, and stared intently into her eyes. "I could only think of my duty, of my betrayal to the crown. I now see the folly in my intention, but what now? My life, it seems, is in your hands. Should I worry?"

A glint of playfulness persisted in his smile. She nodded vigorously. "I will give you a last ultimatum, Evan Tavington. Go back to the British with the case that you were captured, or stay." To this she could not read his thoughts. She wasn't even sure what she meant by the word 'stay'. Her heart was so topsy turvy she couldn't have meant 'stay' with her, could she?

He opened his mouth, then turned as Gabriel opened the tent. Seeing the two so close to each other, Gabriel stopped. "Oh, they said you'd be here. I just wanted to let you know we're moving out now. I'm ….sorry for intruding." Not taking another look at the two, he turned around and walked out. Kristina closed her eyes, and took away her hands from Evan's. 

"I'll get you some new clothes." She rushed from the tent to catch up with Gabriel, but he was no where around. She kicked the dirt, and went in search of Jane.

**

They mounted their horses side by side, along with the rest of the Continental Army. The Army was traveling north to Virginia, in hopes of meeting up with Washington.

Silence befell the two for a few moment as they trotted, but at last one spoke. 

"Back in the tent, Kristina, I didn't know what you meant by staying here. I can't in good conscious stay with the Continental Army and fight my friends. So I deducted you meant stay with you" at the sound of this, she tensed. "But then I thought to myself, you are a highly complex woman who does not know what she wants right now, so that can't be it." He sighed. "So I assume you want me to stay with you until you figure out your life after this war. And to this I cannot say yes."

He paused then continued. "I will ride back to my comrades, and when this war ends I will seek you out. By then your heart will guide you to where it desires. In the meantime, I leave you with this." Bending over his horse slightly unto hers, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, then her lips, gently but full of promise for more to come.

Her head was pounding, but in a way she was quite glad with his decision. Time was something she needed, and he was giving it to her willingly. She still had not told him of the killing of his uncle, nor did she want to present that to him. She thought it would change nothing, since, in fact, Evan was nothing like his uncle. That would be something she would tell him when she saw him again.

He kicked his horse, and headed west. The militia took no notice, and she sighed. Her life was not getting simpler.

She kicked her horse forward, desperately searching for a comrade to talk to. Gabriel was only fifty feet ahead.

Catching up, he took no notice of her. Rolling her eyes, she spoke.

"Now really, are you going to be like that?"

He continued to stare straight ahead. "So you let him go back to those British bastards aye? With full knowledge of where we're headed and how many we have?"

Her headache was not improving. "Yes I did. With the full intent, I might add, that he do everything you just said, because secretly I'm also a British spy." She managed a cough out of him. "You really are quite the child sometimes, Gabriel."

It irked him that he treated her as one. "How do you not know?"

"Because I know him, and he is a friend whom I trust. Trust is two ways, Gabriel. Trust is believing one another, and not hiding secrets."

"So I suppose you told him that you killed his uncle?"

"How…how did you know about it?"

"Word gets around. I see now why you kept that from me, Kristina, but to not tell him? If he is such a good person, he will not care." She gulped, hoping his words to be true.

"Your right, I should have told him, and I should have told you who he was. But I know your temper, and I know you still wouldn't trust me."

He stopped his horse. "Did I lash out at him when I found out? No. I knew he couldn't be devilish if you volunteered to save his life. That's another thing you don't know about me, Miss Warwick. I do know the word trust. You just can't accept that."

He had her stumped, and she hated that feeling. His stomach felt nauseous. You are such a hypocrite, Gabriel thought. Here you are lecturing her on trust when you don't even have the nerve to tell her you killed her father. She deserves to know.

Silence reigned for minutes, which turned to hours. Side by side they walked on their horses, cold from the winter's breath but not daring to show it.

As the army stopped for the night, Kristina uncurled her bag next to Gabriel, a daring move. 

"Will it always be this way between us, Gabriel?"

He pretended to be messing with his own bag. "I don't understand what you mean."

She was tired of his games, of her games. "We yell, then apologize, yell then share intimate thoughts, then we kill our minds trying to find faults in the other. I'm sick of it, as you should be. My life is complicated enough without you in it, Gabriel Martin. I need your honesty, I need reliance, and for some reason you have this annoying, uncanny ability to ground me when necessary. So what will it be? Will you start over with me?"

He was not ready for that. Indeed, they had shared things he would never have dreamed of, but what was she getting at? 

"Both of our lives are complicated right now. I cannot know what the future holds, but I will agree that this bitterness cannot go on. If we are to start anew, I guess I should say something before we become official friends."

Her head cocked to the side in thought, and he took in a deep breath. No one was in hearing proximity, but he felt like eyes were watching.

"That day you were supposedly captured, when you fell before getting revenge on your father, I met up with him." Her heart stiffened. His pupils furiously jiggled from her left to right eyes. "I killed him."

Her mouth opened, but nothing escaped. Most of her existence depended on her lust for getting revenge. Her life was made up of it. He had now taken your mission in life away. Captain Doyle, the very essence of evil in her heart, was dead. It took her a moment to look at him, and what she said was not what she expected.

"Was this what you felt when you learned I had killed Tavington." He narrowed his eyes in surprise. 

"Yes. That was why I was so rash with you the day we met."

She could only nod. She hated them, but the tears were coming regardless. Her vice now wavered a bit also. "So I guess we're even?"

How do you reply? Gabriel could not answer, but bit his lower lip as he had seen her do many a time. To his surprise, it felt good. 

"Come here." He opened his arms and she laid her head on his chest. The two said nothing, and she did not cry. She could only stare into nothing. Her mind drifted to Ethan, to father, to Evan, to Gabriel. She recalled the night Gabriel found out about Ethan. Why was she so weak around him? Was she really such a cry baby…or worse…did he see her as one?

"Why is it that our conversations always end like this?" he whispered a few minutes later. 

She did not move, but whispered back, "because we are hopeless."


	13. Meeting the Martins

**Again, thank you for all your great reviews! It motivates me to write more! I don't exactly know how many more chapters there will be, probably 5 at the most. I wish I had the time to go back and change a few things in previous chapters, considering I started this a year ago, but oh well. Maybe when its all over I'll write the first few chapters over again with better writing, lol. Well, enjoy this chapter and keep reviewing, even if you hate it! VOICE YOUR OPINION!***

Chapter 13 Encountering the Kin

The Carolina campaign was not over. Over 1,100 Tories were captured or killed during the Battle of King's Mountain. Word had reached that Greene had arrived, and he divided the American forces into small, fast moving contingents, and they refrained from open battle. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, yet still they waited in North Carolina for the British. Winter was upon them, as the leaves were whisked away by the harsh winds, and an unusual amount of snow befell the earth of the southern colony.

Kristina hated it. She despised this waiting game, this idly sitting by because neither side struck. A thought had struck her the moment she had heard from Gabriel that her father was dead. What was left now? Her reason for fighting was to, in a way, get back at her father, and in the end get her revenge. Now he was gone, she was exposed as a spy, and could do nothing to gain information from the British. For the first few weeks, she dealt with it by practicing her horrible hunting skills with a few of the militia, some who were huntsmen by trade. Gabriel had left to recruit more men as soon as they had left King's Mountain. She hadn't heard from him since. Finally, the month of January rolled in and she couldn't take it any longer. Her girls, however, seemed content to supply the company with food and water. She had even spotted Jane flirting with a few of the men. 

Benjamin Martin took notice of her anxiousness, and called her into his tent. Upon carefully opening the cloth, she noticed him busily writing away with his quill, maps overflowing on his desk. She approached cautiously, so as not to disturb him. When he looked up, she bowed her back slightly.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

It took him a second to recall why he had even sent for her. A light went off in his head, and he nodded. "Yes. I've heard, from a few sources actually, that your restlessness is becoming most, shall we say, annoying to some. You take long rides and tire the horses, you never help gather wood for fires when asked, and you try everything in your power to dig up what our next moves are. Now, Miss Warwick, I must say, you and your girls can be removed from this company at once if your attitudes are not in the right state. Your contingency in this brigade is based on your helpfulness."

She choked in. "But Mr. Martin, the girls have nothing to do with my sulking! Don't blame them, really, I think they are vital to this cause!"

He held up a hand. "And I think so as well. But I must admit, you are becoming a nuisance around here. Eagerness can be a dreadful companion. So that's why I've assigned you a job that will take you some many miles and a few days to travel. I have a message to send." Her eyes lit up, as if this was the first sign of life in weeks.

"I'll do it!" she eagerly stated. He couldn't help but smile at her.

"You truly are something, Miss Warwick. I need you to pass along a note to my family, who are in hiding by the beach some 20 miles from the Santee, about a day's ride east of Charlestown. There may be British patrols along the way, so this task isn't a light one. You leave as soon as I'm done talking." He lit a stick of red wax and placed a seal on the parchment. It bore the letter M. She took it and looked back up upon his face.

"You miss them, don't you?"

He clasped his hands together and wielded them on his face. Sighing, he took them off and spoke almost in a trance. "Every minute of every day." A sadness overcame her. Here was a loving father separated from his six children, with the thought of their safety on his mind every passing moment. She had no family to worry about. But then again, no one worried for her, and an emptiness filled her heart, though she felt it in her stomach. His eyes no longer seemed on her. "Nathan will be fourteen by now, the age I told him I'd take him up north to Philadelphia. Meg has probably grown into a young woman." His eyes snatched up. "You look a bit like her. The same beautiful eyes." To this Kristina could not help but smile. "Susan. Susan, my God, she is most likely a foot taller by now." She noticed his hands slightly tremoring, his eyes a bit misty. He couldn't even finish talking. She spoke for him.

"Your family sounds divine. I will send your love, and I will bring back any messages they send." He didn't look at her, but simply nodded and sat back in his chair, his muscles tensing. Bowing her head, she exited the camp and immediately went among the tents to find Jane and tell her that she was leaving.

A half hour later, she was mounting her horse and heading southeast. The ride itself would take about two days, if the weather permitted. She looked up at the gray sky. The clouds had overlapped, and the wind had shifted. The last snowfall had occurred a week before, but it now seemed a new blanket of white would come. She kicked her horse forward, wanting to get as far away as she could before the first snowflake fell.

Sure enough, four hours into her ride small flakes glittered the ground, and soon they became bigger and more numerous. Snow was rare this far south, but an occasional winter spawned a few snowstorms. Kristina couldn't recall the last year she had seen it, it had to have been a few years.

Along her journey, her thoughts drifted to where Evan and Gabriel were at this moment. Evan was probably just north of Cowpens, since that was the last time a scout had seen Cornwallis' army, while Gabriel was near the Virginia North Carolina border. It was now 1781.

A new thought hit Kristina with such impact that she stopped her horse without realizing it. It was January 11th. In three days time she will be twenty, the age most girls settled down and built a family. _Well, I'm already far from the norm. Better not start now._

Urging her horse forward, she trotted a few more miles before the snow got deeper, and the sky became darker. A fire was sparked, and she settled down in her sleeping bag, comforted by the thought that she was still able to perform some duties to the Continental Army, though in the back of her mind she couldn't help but wonder if she was now more bothersome than helpful to the cause.

It took her longer than expected to reach her destination, due to the inclement weather. She was a bit disappointed that she didn't have to sneak around Tory and British patrols.

As she crossed a bridge to where the forest ended and the beach began, she saw the arrangement of tents and cabins built along the and. Runaway slaves were mostly present, and children ran to spread the word to their parents that a stranger approached. Guns were drawn, but the moment they saw her Continental jacket they lowered them. Dismounting her horse, she was embraced by the village with smiles and curious eyes. A young boy was running faster than the other children, his brown hair flowing against the breeze. Kristina smiled. This had to be Nathan. He stopped a few feet short of her, his jaw dropped. Soon the other six Martin children arrived.

"Are you a messenger from father?" The oldest girl asked, a bit bewildered. 

Kristina opened up her pack and nodded. "Yes I am."

But you're a girl," Meg questioned, her head tilting a bit to the right in confusion. 

Nathan immediately piped in, "And a pretty one at that." To this Kristina laughed. _He certainly spoke out of turn like his older brother_, she thought with a smirk. 

She ignored Nathan's comment and looked at Meg. "Yes, I am. You don't honestly think we can win a war with a man's intelligence, do you?" To this a spark of life ignited in the children, and Meg laughed. Nathan crossed his arms. The other girl, Susan, held on to her older sister's hand and looked up at this strange girl with hostility.

Kristina got down on her knees to the child's level and held out her hand. "You must be Susan. Your father spoke of you. My name's Kristina." The girl, in turn, buried her face in her sister's back and spoke with a muffled voice. 

"Why isn't daddy here?" Kristina sighed and slowly got up. The others looked to her, asking the same question mentally. Just then a woman approached. Her sapphire blue eyes and flowing blonde hair told of her sincerity and innocence. At once Susan thrust herself to her.

The woman looked just as confused as the children. "You're a Continental rider?" she asked. Kristina sighed. Was it that hard to believe a woman could help with the cause?

"Yes, I have a letter from Benjamin Martin to his family." At the sound of his name, the woman's eyes flickered, and her hand unconsciously tugged at the cloth by her heart. Kristina noticed it, but said nothing. Love was present, that was evident, but Kristina was not the kind of girl to pry into a friend's life.

It took a moment, but the woman eventually spoke. "Yes, well, you must be famished miss-"

"Warwick. Kristina Warwick."

The older woman smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Kristina Warwick. My name is Charlotte. This is Nathan, Samuel, Meg, Susan, and (insert name of that boy I don't know). Come, let's go inside and hear the news." On saying this, Kristina immediately noticed a change in Charlotte's voice when she said 'news'. Perhaps she thought something was wrong. Charlotte looked a bit nervous, but tried to cover it up to the children.

A middle aged black woman came and served everyone soup at the table. Kristina nodded a thanks and sipped it. Looking right, she noticed Susan staring at her with the utmost intensity and contempt. She couldn't blame the child, she missed her father. Kristina wished she could feel that way.

Once everyone was settled in Charlotte spoke. "What news of the war?"

Gulping down her last bit of chicken noodle, Kristina answered, "The British have suffered greatly these past few months. Did you hear of the battle of King's Mountain?" All eight pairs of eyes nodded. She continued. "It was your father's ingenious idea that saved the day." To this Nathan turned to Samuel and grinned. Even Charlotte couldn't suppress a smile. "I'm sure you want to hear news of your father and brother. When was the last time you saw them?"

Without thinking, as Charlotte refilled Susan's plate, she immediately answered. "One year, fourteen days and this afternoon." Kristina paused, amazed at this woman's love for a man. _I hope one day I could feel so passionately_, she observed.

Kristina now turned her eyes towards the children, who all portrayed smiles of delight at the mention of their father and brother, especially Susan.

"Your father is currently assembling various strategic moves for the Continentals. His militia has been honored highly for their victories against the British. Just recently I spoke with him, and he had enough confidence to say that this war will end within the year, though he knew not which side had the overall advantage." Charlotte bowed her head and closed her eyes for a minute, praying that this would all end soon. 

"What about Gabriel?" Samuel asked hopefully, his eyes dancing with pride at his brother.

Kristina bit her tongue to say something jokingly. Her relationship with Gabriel was indeed a rocky one, full of low and high tides. 

"Your brother is a brave man. He keeps your father sane. Gabriel has a lot of courage." She could say no more. The looks on their faces told of their love for their big brother, and it comforted her to know that possibly Gabriel wasn't such an ass with his family as he was sometimes with her. Charlotte raised an eyebrow at the young woman's answer, but said nothing of it. Instead, her lower lip trembled a bit as she spoke.

"What good news you bring. Times have been hard since we first heard about Anne and the murders along the Santee. We can now look to hope." Closing her eyes for a moment, she puckered her lips then stopped. Nathan decided to speak again.

"Miss Warwick, how is it that you are in the Continentals? They only allow men in there?"

"Nathan, perhaps our guest is tired of her long journey. I'm sure you can berate her with all your silly questions tomorrow after she has had some rest." He gave his aunt a look. Kristina could not help but laugh.

"I am in fact extremely tired. But yes, Nathan, I'll tell you anything you want to know in the morning." A look of satisfaction crossed the boy's face, and he raised his eyebrow to his aunt. Rising from the table, Kristina opened her pouch to reveal the letter from Mr. Martin. "I leave you with a letter from your father. I shall retire. Thank you for the meal, Abigail. Good night everyone."

The next morning dawned quicker than Kristina would have liked. She opened her eyes to stare into another's. She let out a quiet screech and then turned over. "Susan, you really shouldn't sneak up on sleeping people like that." Her voice was hoarse and scratchy, and it yearned for a drink. Shaking her head awake, she turned her body back around and discovered the girl was not there anymore. 

She looked left and right, then plopped her head back on the pillow, or so she thought. "Ow!" she yelped, as her head viciously hit the backboard. Her pillow had fallen off. She growled and rubbed her now sore head. "Already I'm off to a great start."

Susan returned a few seconds later with a glass of water. _This child surely is a strange one, sending me all sorts of mixed signals. She is definitely the most like Gabriel. _

"Thank you," she croakily replied to her silent servant, who, on hearing Kristina speak, ran from the room. Kristina sighed and gulped down the refreshing water. 

A half hour later she walked out onto the beach, buttoning up the uniform Benjamin had given her weeks before. The children were out playing and fishing. Charlotte approached her with a stricken look on her face.

"My dear, surely you would want some new clothes by now. Come back inside, you silly girl, and I'll see if you can fit into one of my dresses."

_Dresses? She thought. Goodness its been a while since I've worn one. Not that I want to, but at least it will be better than a smelly uniform_. With her thoughts confirmed, she followed Charlotte back into the cabin.

A few minutes later she wanted to bite back her words, but to no avail. _Now I remember why I hated dresses. Damn corsets_, she thought as she tried to breathe. Charlotte passed her the dress. Kristina gasped. It was a gorgeous sky blue color, with puffed sleeves and intricate lacing. It was cut low enough to reveal her rather large sized chest, but elegant enough so as not to make them plunge out like a prostitute. Trying it on, she tried to sigh. It fit perfectly. Charlotte panted with pride. "You look absolutely ravishing in it, Kristina." Kristina couldn't help but smile.

"It's been so long since I wore a nice outfit." She recalled the last time she had worn something so stylish, then shuttered at the thought. It was the night Gabriel was captured at her estate. The night her father shot at her. The night she was exposed. Her smile faded.

"What's wrong, my dear? You don't like it?"

Kristina turned around and gave the older woman a hug. "Thank you for making me remember that I am, in fact, still a girl. I fear these months with the men have turned me into quite the tomboy." The two girls laughed, and Kristina looked over herself in the mirror before changing back.

"Don't you want to wear it now?" Charlotte questioned.

"Good heavens no. I'll ruin it before noon, being the clumsy nitwit I am. No, I think I'll wear it to supper this evening. If that's alright?" Charlotte nodded. Changing back into her breeches, she exited the cabin once more, and all the children came to meet her.

"Miss Warwick! Will you tell us now?" Nathan eagerly asked. She nodded, and sat on the nearest barrel as the children sat on the sand, their eyes and ears all on her.

She knew not to tell them everything, only the bare minimum needed to make it interesting. Obviously they had little feedback from the outside world for months, so they yearned for a story.

"Myself and a few of my closest friends decided that we could help in the revolution against the British." Already Samuel cut in.

"But Miss Warwick, you have one of those accents. Aren't you British?"

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid Samuel. Many colonists have British accents. That doesn't mean she's a Torie."

Samuel grumbled, but spoke no more.

"Because I had only come from Britain a few years before, I was in the circle of some of the elite leaders of the British army."

Meg cut in. "So you were a spy for us?" Kristina smiled, and nodded. Samuel mouthed a quiet 'wow'.

"I helped gather information, and I gave it to your father, who gave it to the Continentals. One day I was exposed and I had to go into hiding with the militia. My girls and I were allowed to stay with the Continentals during the King's Mountain battle because we could help bandage the wounded and bring supplies to the soldiers. And here I am, a messenger for your father." For a moment, no one spoke. 

"That's it?" Nathan asked, quite disappointed.

"Nathan!" Charlotte exclaimed.

Kristina herself realized how boring a story teller she was. "Yes well, I never said it was an exciting story."

Nathan continued. "Oh come on! Your just putting on a front because the girls are here. I bet you've killed and seen blood." A new thought crossed his head. "How exactly did you get the information from the British officers anyway? You'd have to be pretty close with them for them to reveal something so important to you."

"NATHAN!" Charlotte exclaimed again, this time with more authority. Kristina tried to hide her smirk. There was no getting around this boy. A bit pert, yes, but smart like his father. 

"Charlotte, its quite alright. The boy is curious. And no wonder, they've been couped up all this time and I only give them a lousy story about my life? Hmm, let's see. Did you here of the time your father met General Cornwallis, and made him the laughingstock of his own men?" There eyes widened, and they shook their heads.

After she had finished three stories of their father's adventures, all of which she had heard from various men in the militia, she left with Meg to gather wood for the night ahead.

"You'll have to excuse Nathan, he's very outspoken, and most of the time out of line with his thoughts." 

Kristina picked up a big log. "Most men are like that. If you don't mind my asking, how old are you, Meg?"

The girl blushed. "15 years."

Kristina raised her eyebrows. "A fine year to be. Do you have an interest in boys yet?"

Meg's face turned even redder. "I'm afraid there are no boys around to even think of having an interest in."

"Well how about when before all this even happened. Surely there was someone."

The girl paused, reveling her answer. "Well, there was one boy who I had a crush on. I used to play with Nathan's friend Patrick. He's my age. But that was before we even lost the house."

"Your lucky. I didn't start to have an interest in boys until I was sixteen. Sixteen! Can you believe it? I always had lots of friends who were boys, but I never thought anything of it. I do however, remember this one time, when I was fourteen, back in London, a boy tried to kiss me, and I punched him so hard he was unconscious for a day!" Megs eyes widened in horror and delight and she laughed outright. 

"You did not! How mortifying!"

"I wish it were a myth but nay, it is true."

"Nathan and I believed a similar thing happened to our brother Thomas after he came home one day from Polly McGintis' house with a black eye. Father forbid him to go near the house again." Kristina thought for a moment, then realized she was talking about her dead brother. And you killed his murderer.

Meg didn't seem very upset by his name, and to that Kristina was relieved. _I wish I could remember people without feeling depressed._

Meg changed the subject. "So who was your first love? Or have you had it yet?"

Kristina did not know how to answer this without getting upset. But she could not lie. It was like forgetting the past, forgetting his life. And that was something that should be remembered.

"His name was Ethan."

Hearing the past tense of the sentence, Meg stopped and did not ask anything further, to which Kristina was grateful. They collected a few more logs and headed back to the village, as the sun was just beginning to set over the water, its colors a vast array of orange and pink.

_Beautiful_, she thought. 


	14. Reality Check

Chapter 14

Since Kristina was sure nothing would happen in the course of a few days, she figured out that Benjamin most likely wanted her to stay with his family for awhile. She did not mind at all. The Martin children were vibrant beings full of stories and tales. They craved adventure and loved hearing Kristina talk about the outside world. She got along with Meg the most, as Kristina explained to Meg the utterly useless boarding school she attended in London. 

"I was horrible at everything; pottery, knitting, etiquette. I do however miss Ms. Finch's class- dance. In the beginning I had two left feet, but by the end of my first season there I was one of the best dancers."

Meg's eyes lit up. "I wish I knew how to dance. It sounds lovely."

Kristina, with a glint of excitement escaping her smile, stood up and took Meg's hands into her own. Meg was dumbfounded a moment, then slid away. "Oh, no no no. There's not even music playing."

"Well what will happen when you see that Patrick fellow again?" Meg's cheeks turned a deep rose. "That's what I thought. Now come on, don't be a bugger. I'll be the man. Place your right hand with mine, and your left hand on my shoulder. Now, move your left foot back and your right forward a bit- no, see that's my foot your stepping on, dear- there's a girl, now I'll lead. One two three, one two three. Don't forget to look up. See? We're gliding across the ballroom. Your quite a natural!" Meg's laughter could be heard throughout the field, and her brothers and sister heard and took a look. 

"Nathan!" Kristina called. He ran up to her. 

"Be the man." He started dancing with his sister and awkwardly counted as they danced. Kristina laughed, and Samuel took Susan's hand the two began to try and follow their sibling's footsteps. William tugged on Kris, and she danced with him, counting along with the other children until the numbers became a song itself. "One two three, one two three, one two three, one." After more giggles and gliding, Samuel tripped over Susan's feet and the two crashed unto the floor, sending the rest into more hysteric fits of laughter. 

She had now stayed at the Martin's hideout for a week, and she feared she had to return. She craved news of the war, news of Evan and Gabriel. She decided to stay one last night.

After the delicious dinner of soup and apple pie (Abigail's specialty), she broke the news to the children.

"When will you come back?" Samuel questioned. It then struck her that she may never be back, she had simply delivered a message from her superior officer. She put on a smile.

"Hard to say. These are uncertain times. But I'm sure it would please your father and brother greatly if I sent back letters from you all to them." And so the children spent the next hour helping each other write notes to their family. The sun was once more setting across the ocean, the peaceful sound of waves splashing against the sand. It was hard to believe a war raged on a few miles down. Everything here seemed so untouched, unscarred.

Charlotte approached her. "After you give the letters to Benjamin, you could come back and stay here, you know. The children adore you, and since your exposed as a spy there's nothing left for you to do."

Kris sighed. "In a way I wish I could. I pray I do return to this peaceful state. But your wrong. There is plenty still to be done, and plenty still to do even for a girl like me. The war is not over, and I still have strength left in me to see to it that the right side wins."

"I wish I had your courage," Charlotte stated, looking across the ocean.

Kristina looked up at the older woman in confusion. "Look at you! Your protecting Benjamin Martin's children, your keeping spirits alive, your making sure your family is not harmed by war. Your keeping silent about your love and fear for your sister's husband to be strong for the children." She was taken aback that this girl knew about her love.

"Your always welcome with our family, Kristina."

Kris left early the next morning, kissing the top of every child's head and hugging them. Even Susan got misty eyed. Kris stuffed the letters into her bag and galloped across the bridge and out of sight.

Already she missed it. They seemed the perfect family, loving and caring and fun. Everything a family should be. _Both my parents are dead_, she thought. _Well, at least I'm glad father is. _Six hours into her ride she heard voices and urged her horse forward. _Oh no, the Continentals are moving again. _When the men were in sight, she pulled back so fast on the reigns her horse reared and she fought to keep on. _Redcoats_! The spook of the horse had caught their attention. Calming him down quickly, she turned him around and tried to head west, away from both the Redcoats and away from the hidden Martins. A shot fired and hit the tree to her right. They must have noticed her Continental jacket. _Stupid girl_! She shouted at herself, urging the horse faster.

More shots rang out, but all of a sudden what was going on behind her didn't matter anymore. Ahead about 20 yards were 10 British soldiers, aiming their muskets straight at her. She slowed her horse and halted. She could not win this fight. Raising her hands in the air, they moved toward her.

"What's this now, ay? A girl in a Continental uniform?" An arm yanked her off and she fell to the ground, her face hitting the mud.

Another soldier leafed through her bag. "Letters addressed to Benjamin Martin, sir." He handed the officer who was talking the letters.

"I see. A messenger. What is your name?"

"Millicent Bowman."

Two hands lifted her to her feet, her arms being held behind her back. "Miss Bowman, you are under arrest for treason against his royal highness, King George the Third. If you tell us everything, your punishment will be less severe."

_I could make up a story. Tell them I stole it from a dead soldier,_ she thought. Seeing the guns pointed at her, the writhing faces grinning, she cringed. _That's what they expect from a girl._

"I am no traitor. I never swore allegiance with that bloody tyrant!" A hand swept across her face. Stinging in pain, she shut up, and they tied her hands to a rope and started walking her back to the rest of their troop.

***** Continental Army*****

"Ah, Gabriel, your back!" The father and son embraced, and soon business was attended to.

However, the conversation soon turned to a certain woman. "Where is Miss Warwick anyway? Usually I could hear her nagging voice miles away."

"I sent her to the family for a few days, she should be back any day now." Gabriel's eyes lit at the notion of his siblings.

"God it would be nice to see them all again."

"Yes, well, I figure she's our safest bet to send news. Plus, I hate to say it, but she was running our camp ragged from her boredom. I had to do something."

To this Gabriel laughed. "I'm glad I missed that. Probably would have driven me insane."

Suddenly Benjamin's eyes became serious, and he drank from his canteen. "Tis a good thing for a woman to have that ability over a man sometimes. Charlotte says it keeps the man in check."

Gabriel followed his father in drinking the water. "Yes well, it's annoying all the same."

Benjamin put the canteen down and folded his hands. "You know, after your mother died it took me a long time to get over it. A long time. But once I fond that peace, life went on. I know you don't like to talk about it, but sometimes talking is a very good medicine."

Gabriel nodded, his head looking at the dirt on the ground. "I have buried my thoughts for some time now. It's been a year you know, yet still my first thought is of her when I wake up, and she's the last thing I think of when I sleep. Will it always be this way?"

The elder Martin could only nod his head. 

Gabriel continued. "Father….how do you know, when its right to move on? For…for Anne's sake."

His eyebrow lifts, and a smirk soon follows. "Your not talking about that insane spy girl now are you?"

Gabriel shared in his father's smile. "Whether it be Miss Warwick or anyone. The question was actually quite broad."

"Indeed. Well, my boy, there is no clear answer to that. You'll always have Anne in your heart, but there is room for others. When the right time arrives, you'll know."

Gabriel sighed heavily. "I'll know," he repeated to himself in a whisper.

*************

The walk was long and terrible. Her feet ached, her wrists burned from twisting at the ropes, and they never once stopped to give her water. 

"I should at least be treated like a lady!" she shouted at one point. That idea was erased the moment an unknown hand crept its way across her body. _Perverts_, she screamed inside. Hours rolled by and still they did not stop. She licked her cracked lips and gulped her dry throat as she watched them drink their water. She hadn't tried talking for awhile, perhaps she'd try again. No doubt it would give her another beating, but her mouth was rarely silenced.

"I believe if you want me alive before your court I will require some sort of sustenance." No beating came. Instead, the captain rolled his eyes and unlatched a canteen from his horse's saddle.

"That's all ye git, so I'd drink slowly, Miss Bowman." The flat warm water tasted heavenly against her lips, and she struggled to take small sips. Her stomach growled, and she heard one of the soldiers smirk.

"Are we far from the rest of your troop?"

"Bloody hell you think we'd tell you! That's enough from your purtty trap for one day." He tugged on her rope harder. _I highly doubt this is how all colonial prisoners are treated_, she contemplated. _With the exception of Colonel Tavington, her father, and obviously this brute_. "If this kind of conduct is true of all prisoners of war I think I shall write your General a very nasty letter." The only reply she got was a harder tug of the ropes, her wrists now dripping blood.

By the time night had once more twisted its way into the sky, Kristina looked a sight. Her hair unraveled, her clothes dirty as the dickens, her face bruised and swelling, her wrists scarring, her cracked lips bleeding. _Well, guess I can't use my charming looks to get me out of this one._

They had arrived at a British outpost. Her ropes were untied as they put her in some sort of large cage. A few other men shared it, none she recognized, all looking scared and undernourished. She tried twisting her wrists but found it too painful.

"When is my trial? I have a right to one" she boldly asked.

"Trial…o yes, that. You will be hanged one week from tomorrow, along with these other treasonous vermin. That is your trial. Have a nice one, love." With that, the fat officer walked away, his minions laughing.

It hurt so much to try and sit, but once she accomplished that, she leaned against the wooden bars and sighed.

"Now what's a lass like yerself mixed up in this business?" A clear Irishman spoke.

Afraid it would cause to much pain in her neck to turn, she simply looked on to world beyond the outpost. "You'd think I'd remember right now, wouldn't you?"

He guffawed quietly. "A British lass, even more interesting. A tale such as yours must be quite long."

Intrigued, she turned to face him. The Irishman looked to be in his 60's, frail with long gray hair waving down to his shoulders. His Continental uniform was faded and torn. Yet something sparkled in his eyes. The same foolish spark of hope that lived in many of these colonists' eyes.

"I could say the same for you. What part of Ireland do you hail from?"

"The great city of Dublin, my dear. Fine country."

"All I remember is fog and green." To this he laughed, this time a little louder. Luckily the guard did not come by.

"That it is, lass, that it is. I miss my country. Came here in '73, I did. Bad luck for me, I guesses. I figures I might as well join this army rather than face the consequences of being called a Tory. Plus, we hated that tyrant back in my land anyway. What's your story, eh?"

Two guards stood nearby. A prisoner across from her raised his eyebrow. No, it was not safe to tell the truth. Too many ears were close. If word leaked that she was Kristina Doyle, the spy who's father they had served, the consequences would be harsher. They would know she was close with the Martins, and they could leak larger information from her. As Millicent Bowman, she could pretend to be a one time messenger delivering to Mr. Martin letters from his kids. After all, she missed lying.

"I was only carrying letters from children to some officer in the Continentals….."


	15. POW

Wow, its hard to believe two years have gone by and Im still not done with this story!! I hope my writing has improved since then…..maybe not, we'll see. And for those who actually remember reading this story and actually reviewed saying they hoped I'd continue soon, my deepest apologies for keeping you waiting. I honestly can say this story will be finished by summer's end. And now, ta da! Chapter 15!!

"Miss? Come one now, miss, you better get up, the guards be coming.." Slowly two eyes lifted to reveal the old Irishman by her side, his face one of nervousness. Glancing to her left she saw the guards coming, and forced herself to sit up. The day before a man was almost beaten to death for not getting up. The cage that held the small group was opened, as British soldiers pushed the prisoners out. It was at this time that the prisoners were allowed to piss and get a scrap of bread to eat. Before they left, each had to be chained together, to prevent escape.

It was dawn of the third day of her captivity. A cough had sprung from nowhere, her lungs burned, and the other inmates had taken good care to avoid her at all costs. She liked this: the less questions asked, the better. She desperately tried not to think of the near future. Who wanted to think about death?

Escape was near impossible in this place. It seemed the only way to flee the hanging was to kill herself before. _And that wouldn't solve anything, now would it?_

The waiting game was hard. Mostly her thoughts drifted to her life over the past year. Images of Jane, Gabriel, Mr. Martin, Evan, Meg, her militia; all flooded through her mind. The Irishman told her she spoke these names out in her sleep; she only hoped no one else heard anything important.

On the fourth day they were not allowed to get out of the cage, and no food was given. The coughing persisted, and she soon found that even thinking made her weary. The sunlight always barred down on them, and her skin was burned and peeling away. Water was rationed to one cup per day, and the other prisoners soon became enemies as well. The 5th day came and when her one cup of water came into her hands, the snakelike man who watched her everyday snatched it from her. She growled and drew a fist to get it back, but by the time his eye was black the water had spilt. The guards just laughed and shook their heads. "Savages", they muttered under their breaths.

At night the British soldiers would gamble and drink nearby. Their laughter kept her awake. She had to keep one eye open at all times to see what they would do. Luckily, the lieutenant must have told his mine to lay hands off her, for not one guard tried to touch her inappropriately.

The colonel came out to speak to them on the sixth night. He was a middle aged man, whose small but fearsome body told his authority. He had one finger missing on his left hand, which showed he had once been a soldier who had earned his way to the top, not a sniveling aristocrat who got his position by money and stature. Still, there was not a single glance or gesture to assume he was even decent.

His eyes narrowed when he spoke. "Tonight is your last, treasonous pigs! So you will eat like them!" His voice was barely above his whisper, but everyone heard him correctly. Buckets of slop were brought before the wooden cage, and eager pairs of hands reached for clumps of God knows what.

Kris stayed back in her corner, disinterested. A few moments later the Irishman came to her with the slop in his hands.

"Come on lass, there's enough for everyone."

Her eyes seemed distant, and she kept her expression frozen. "I am not a pig," she gargled. Her lungs burned from speaking.

"Tis not being a pig to eat."

"It is when you eat a soldier's shit." For that was what it smelled like. The old man sighed and went back to the others to eat.

The sky was clear that night, and the coolness relaxed her muscles. It had been two days since she had tried to even move her body. Her coughing that night persisted stronger, and it kept everyone awake. Finally, a guard came by, screaming at her to shut up, and he kicked her ribs hard. It was just as well, her body had decided that it was too tired to cough anymore anyway.

Her mind however, would not let her have one last night of rest. _That's because your about to sleep for all eternity_, she concluded with herself.

"Your not coming, are you?" she whispered to the sky. "No, I suppose not. You've already saved my life before, I doubt I have nine lives." Already the sky was turning from black to dark blue, then to an orange-pink. Dawn. Still her eyes did not even blink.

"Maybe it's my destiny to join you, Ethan."

The trumpet sounded. The gates opened as a rider cantered all the way towards the lieutenant's cabin. He flung off the horse and went in. He did not return for a good hour. The sun was already in full view above the horizon. Something was happening.

The lieutenant came out, though no drums were beating. His face was furious. He was addressing the prisoners. "Seems the general wants to let you live and suffer a little longer than expected. But I wouldn't look to hope." He marched back towards his cabin, the guards looking just as confused as the captives.

They continued to only get one cup of water each that day. That night, however, when most of the prying ears were out of sight or asleep, the prisoners conversed.

It was Kris who spoke. "The Continentals must be winning. General Cornwallis can use us and other captives as a back up in case the battles go wrong. If he killed us all, he could lose everything." To this no one could disagree.

The Irishman muttered, "And here I thought the British actually had hearts." Laughs erupted, and Kris wriggled enough energy to join in.

It was another three days before they were given food again. By then Kris was steadily weathering away to nothing. Thankfully, her cough had subsided, though she wheezed when she breathed. She could feel her ribs beginning to stick out, her skin thinning. Thank God they don't have a mirror here.

To keep herself alive, she made up stories and fairy tales in her head, and recited all the ones she had learned from others. If the other prisoners heard her, they paid her stories no attention. Each man had his own thoughts to drift to.

"Now, most people disagree, but I like to think that Lancelot had his own lover, and that the love triangle was just a sham to make the story more appealing. Guinevere was actually a Pict, you see, not a princess. A warrior. The Picts actually let women fight. And Arthur saved her from a Roman priest…" she stopped speaking, for some kind of activity erupted her thoughts. Shots had been fired, and the guards had scrambled past then to take places atop the wooden tower wall. Screams echoed in, though the cage was too far to the side of the fort to see anything. Kristina's eyes had been blurry over the past few days anyway. Hours went by before…

"They've broken the gate!" One prisoner yelled. It seemed weariness had overtaken her once more. She closed her eyes as cannons exploded and smoke swept through the camp. She relied on her ears entirely now. Soon the screams subsided, but the hollers of the other prisoners told her all she needed to know. They were saved.

"Kris!" He shouted amidst the smoke. It was so hard to see anything. A soldier came at him with a bayonet, but Gabriel was far too angry to stop. He quickly sliced through the man's gut and continued. The fight was over, and the Continentals had won. It had been his father's idea to raid the fort, once they had found out what happened to Kristina. Benjamin made sure the Continentals thought the fort was a valuable asset and an easy target, but truly his motive was to get out the girl.

Gabriel thought back to the last time he thought she had been taken by the British. _She certainly didn't need your help that time, did she? He questioned. This is different, I can feel that she's here. I sense her. She needs help._

"Over here!" A booming Irish voice sounded. Already the Continentals had chopped off the lock and started to pull the prisoners out.

Soon Gabriel heard it. "Colonel, I found a girl over here!" one soldier exclaimed.

The Martin boy pushed through the soldiers and made his way to the opening just as a thin girl, veiled in a hood was being unloaded. Surely this girl was too small to be his Kristina. He walked over to the man who held her and unwrapped the veil. His heart both cheered and faltered at the sight that it was, indeed, her.

He quickly told the man he knew who she was, and soon she was scooped up in his arms. "Arthur" she whispered, though he paid her words no mind. He stroked the few strands of hair that stuck to her forehead. She was so red, so hot.

"It's okay" he whispered back. "I'm here". Her eyes dilated. Heat fever, he thought.

They made their way outside the fort and into the army. Benjamin Martin awaited them.

"How is she?"

"I don't know. I…I honestly don't know. Father, look at her. She's skin and bones." He paced back and forth as she was laid on his father's bed inside a tent.

The army doctor was brought in and examined her as she slept.

As the physician spoke, all Gabriel could do was look at her face, which was now white as a sheet.

"She hasn't got much chance, it's a miracle she's lasted this long without food and water. Her ribs are broken, and her lungs swelled. If she doesn't die from the heat exposure, it'll be the starvation and cold. Keep giving her fluids every few hours, and sweat out the fever. Other than that, only time can heal her." As he passed, he gave Gabriel a quick pat on the shoulder.

The Martin boy bit his lip. Benjamin could not look him in the eye. "She's been lucky so far, Gabriel-"

But the son cut him off. "We could have been here days ago! We could have taken the militia and still won the fort! Why did we have to wait for the Goddamn Continentals to decide whether it was in the best interest of the army to overtake it?"

"Gabriel-"

"If she dies, it will be on your head, father. You and your political bullshit. Leave us." Never before had Gabriel spoken so to his father. On seeing the anger, Benjamin sighed and left. Before closing the tent, he watched as Gabriel squeezed a cold cloth and dabbed her forehead his other hand stroking hers.


	16. Intimacy

It rained heavily for three nights after the raid. Clouds suspended the air of Gabriel's tent, and the girl inside still would not wake. She drifted from nightmare to nightmare, her breathing heavy, her cough persisting in small contractions. She couldn't scream, but Gabriel could tell when her mind floated to bad thoughts- her entire body would tense, her teeth chattering, her head rolling from side to side. It hurt him to see her in so much pain. For the most part, he whispered stories in her ear, hoping her nightmares would switch to simple dreams. He spoke of his childhood, his brothers and sisters, the many adventures he had. Nothing seemed to loosen her. Though a little embarrassed, he even tried singing, though he knew that itself was probably torture enough to hear.

When the sun finally decided to appear on the fourth day, he had had enough. Bending over to her right ear, he whispered, "It's time."

Still she did not wake.

After a quick nap, Gabriel decided to get some fresh air. His father was sitting outside the tent, carving away at something. The son sat next to him.

"It's as if she doesn't want to wake up."

His father continued to carve. "Gabriel, that girl has dealt with so much these past few years I think this is the first real sleep she's had. Her mind and body are exhausted by this war. Perhaps she thinks it isn't worth waking up to."

Silence danced between the two. Gabriel rubbed on his drowsy eyes and stared at what his father was carving. It was a wooden soldier.

"Thomas would have liked that," he said thoughtfully.

Benjamin did not look up. "Tomorrow it will be three years since his death."

Closing his eyes, Gabriel sighed heavily. "I'm sorry about what I said before, father. Kristina's sickness is not your fault, and I should have never questioned your willingness to help."

Again, the father continued to stare at the wooden soldier he was carving.

"I love Kristina the same way I loved Anne- like my own." To this Gabriel almost tried to smile, but kept his head low.

"Father, remember when you said I'd know when I'd feel ready?"

Benjamin did not answer, and Gabriel continued. "I felt it last night. It- it was the first night where I did not awake expecting Anne to be there. I awoke, and-"

"Thought of Kristina?" Benjamin chimed in.

"More like saw her, actually. But yes."

"It was the same for me. With your Aunt Charlotte." Suddenly both Martins faced each other, and cracked a typical Martin smile.

Two nights later, she awoke, just for a moment, to see Gabriel's sleeping form against a chair. She inwardly smiled, and finally drifted off into a peaceful rest.

He was speaking again. It was faint, but she could gradually hear more and more, though her eyes seemed too heavy to open yet. The voice got louder.

"Your friend Jane came by today, told me to tell you if you woke up that everything's in ship shape order, I think she put it." She felt warmth as his hand slid into hers. He continued, "You know I actually think this war may be ending soon. Father says we leave tomorrow to a place called Yorktown where General Cornwallis' men are camped. I don't know all the details, but they say this could be the big battle that will decide the war." She could feel his excitement in the way he talked. Maybe, perhaps she had enough energy to squeeze his hand. Instantly she tried, and in turn, instantly his hand left hers.

"Kristina?" he spoke, louder than before. "Kristina, can you hear me?"

More senses were slowly coming back to her. Gradually, her eyelids fluttered a bit, before opening halfway to reveal a blurred face with blonde curls.

"Hi," she creakingly whispered. His happiness leaped about as he kissed her forehead gently.

"Hi," he whispered back. He started playing with her hair, his eyes stuck on hers, his grin very much present.

"I had a dream in which I wasn't dead."

He laughed. "This is no dream. Here," he eagerly snatched a cup. "Drink this." She couldn't hold all of the liquid down, and she coughed a bit after.

"No whiskey, eh?"

"Perhaps later." Still his eyes never left hers.

"I feel like hell. I look it, don't I? That's why your staring."

He shook his head mischievously. "No, all the world could not hold your beauty at this moment."

"Shakespeare?" she enquired, a little surprised and delighted by his answer.

Once more he shook his head. "No, purely Martin."

She tried to sit up, but found it impossible. She cringed and touched her ribs.

"I think a few are broken. They'll heal, with time. Don't try to sit up yet."

"Now you tell me," she stated, trying to examine her condition. Her head felt like a 50 pound sack of sugar. Her lungs still burned, but she didn't mind as much.

Quite frankly, she was amazed that she even survived such an ordeal. She had honestly given up all hope, even given up on Gabriel. _Again, he pulls a complete three sixty_, she excitedly thought.

"If you are well enough, in a few days we shall ride back to the beach where the children are. I hear you've already been acquainted."

This surprised her greatly. "But Gabriel, I thought you just said you were to ride out to Yorktown tomorrow?"

He cut in, "I said the Continentals, not me. No, I believe a certain disobedient girl needs looking after."

She was about to reply, but in fact, shut her mouth. _At least this way, he won't be near danger_, she decided. _And it would be nice to see the children again._

"I believe for once, Mr. Martin, you may be right."

The army left early the following morning, with Benjamin Martin and what was left of his militia with them. He gently kissed her on the cheek, and gave her another letter to give to his children.

Kris couldn't help but notice a delightful change in Gabriel when he thought about visiting his siblings.

"It's been over a year since I've seen them, you know," he said the following day.

She only smiled and nodded. Though her fever and cold were winding down, the state of her ribs was far too risky to try riding, so a Continental wagon was borrowed for the small journey.

He went slowly through the fields and roads, making sure she was comfortable the entire time. He was being fussy, really, she realized, but did not tell him so. In fact, she couldn't help but grasp that something had changed between them. A deeper bond had developed, and though she wanted the feeling to go away, it persisted through her thoughts. Suddenly he was no longer the annoying, testy Gabriel she had been so confused about. Though their disagreements were quite amusing to watch in their own way, it was interesting to see how they both even eyed each other in a different, more shy manner. She didn't want to say it, but somehow his attractiveness had peaked the moment her eyes had opened, after the raid.

Still, she had her pride, and would not pursue the matter. By midday the following day they had reached the bridge connecting to the beachfront village.

Once again, children, on seeing a wagon, ran to meet the new guests.

"Gabriel! Gabriel!" Voices rang out. "Kristina!" called others.

Nathan was the first to reach his older brother, and after the elder jumped off the wagon, the two embraced.

"By God, you've grown!" Soon the others had reached him, and one huge Martin hug had erupted. In fact, so many hands grasped to squeeze him he soon lost his balance and toppled over, laughing all the way down to the ground. Kristina stayed put on the wagon, smiling at their antics. Somehow, on seeing this interaction, reassured her of her changed opinion of the man before her.

After a minute Gabriel soon remembered and blushed. "Oh goodness, I'm sorry. Children, you know Kristina, right?"

"I think we've met, but I'm not sure," Kris laughed, playing along. Let's see, you must be Samuel-" she pointed to Nathan, "and you must be Susan-" pointing to Meg." This produced giggles from the younger ones and smiles from Nathan and Meg.

Gabriel held out his hand and Kris took it, not realizing how badly it hurt to twist her ribs to the side. She winced, and soon she found both of his hands lifting her off her seat and safely to the ground.

Meg was the first to noticed. "What happened?"

Kris was the first to speak, "Just fell off my horse while riding back to your father, is all. Speaking of which…" she produced his letter. "I got another note from him." Eager hands leaped for it, and her injury was soon forgotten, though Gabriel gave her a stern look.

"You could have told them the truth you know," he whispered as he helped her into their cabin.

Kris shook her head. "If I have five more Martin children fussing over me like you do, I think my head would explode," she kindly whispered back. To this he laughed.

The cabin was small, and it was different from the one she stayed in last time. It was one room, equipped with a wooden bed, a poorly put together desk, and a small window above the bed.

"I don't remember this one being here last time," she explained, and Meg answered her.

"That's because it's new. It was supposed to be for Samuel and Nathan, considering how big their getting, but they don't mind giving it up for you."

Gabriel helped her lie down into the soft feather bed.

"Are you sure your alright?" Meg questioned.

"Nothing a few more days rest won't cure. Tell the boys I'm very grateful, and I promise not to inconvenience them long."

Gabriel gave her a quick squeeze of the hand, and left with Meg so Kris could have a good sleep.

For the next few days, Kristina's ribs slowly began to heal as she took Gabriel's advice and stayed inside. Charlotte stayed with her often, and she was the only one that knew the truth in her injury. Again, that peaceful sensation overtook her as she sat near the beach shore.

She watched as Gabriel dunked each of the kids in the water, all of them trying to overpower him. He fished with Michael, went hunting with Samuel and Nathan, and at night told all the children stories around the campfire.

After a week, Kristina found she could expand her body more and she sometimes ventured on walks. She even went hunting one morning with Nathan, and came back to surprise everyone with two rabbits.

No news came from the battle of Yorktown, though both Gabriel and Kristina were anxious. They tried to occupy themselves with various chores, and even decided to start building another small cabin.

After one evening of skits and various games, Gabriel knocked on Kristina's cabin. She opened the door, and on seeing the way his eyes stared intently into hers, she closed the door after him. No words came from either's mouth. The only sound to be heard were the crickets and human breathing.

They stood there, for minutes on hand, examining each others facial features. Gabriel's right foot extended forward, his back leaning closer, his hands soon cupping her smooth face. Both gently closed their eyes, and let their lips touch sensually. Everything about him felt right. She let him first kiss her lips, then her ear, then her neck, each time her breath quickening with excitement. Without a care in the world, her hands slowly started unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. His body leaned forward more, and she found herself first sitting, then lying on the bed. She wrapped her arms on his back, her fingers exploring all sorts of scars. Their lips parted, and he lifted up her blouse, for she could not wear the corset from her injured ribs.

He whispered softly in her ear, "Am I hurting you?" He was referring to her ribs, and she could only shake her head no. He wasn't, and if her ribs did hurt, she wouldn't have cared.

His eyes widened on noticing her nicely woven figure. Her lips traveled from his neck to his chest, wanting to explore all he had. Soon all clothes were off, and two figures intimately wrapped themselves around each other, each feeling like this should have been done long ago.

"Gabriel-" she whispered, but soon found she could not talk anymore.


	17. The beginning

Yes, alas, it is the long awaited final chapter to a very very old story. Those of you who have stuck by it, attacking me with reviews of wanting more, I thank you. If not for your nagging, this would never have been completed (o how I love nagging). Without further adieu, I give you the end of the Martin story…well, maybe not the end…maybe its only the beginning…

Utter bliss surrounded the girl who survived captivity. It had been a long time since she smiled every morning, grinned every evening and laughed in between. It was 1781, and the war was ending, people could feel it in the wind. It was clear now in everyone's minds who the victor would be, though no word had reached them yet.

After one very long night of feverishly passionate intimacy, Kristina lay awake on the bed, her fingers twisting their way through Gabriel's locks of golden hair as he rested his head on her stomach. He breathed fast now, biting his lip. She took notice and kissed his forehead. "What's wrong?" she whispered, playfully biting his ear at the same time.

He quickly turned over and placed his chin on her stomach now. "I love you."

She closed her eyes in exhilaration. "I've waited so long to hear that". She leaned her back against the wall and he sat up. His eyes continued to dance with nervousness.

"There's not a day I wouldn't want to spend with you."

Still being playful, she enquired, "Well, I guess you better not leave me then. You'd die." She thought he would mischievously grin at her comment, but instead he bit his lower lip in frustration. She cocked her head sideways, unsure of him.

"Marry me."

Her fingers stopped their play. She looked into his eyes for some kind of sign that this was yet another Martin ploy. She found only honesty. Memories rushed through her mind over the past few years of her life in America. From her father, Ethan, her espionage against Great Britain, Gabriel….a coldness she thought would never leave finally started to vacate her soul.

"I never thought your mouth would be silenced by me," he joked, a little nervous by her lack of reply.

She kissed him fiercely, wanting more of him. When they finally broke off each other, she whispered, "You are my past, present, and future. Of course I'll marry you."

For one bleaking second, she remembered that she would not be the first Mrs. Gabriel Martin. Would she ever live up to Anne?

It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He pressed his hand on her cheek and rubbed her temple with his thumb. "You complete me." _Worries gone, _she thought.

About two weeks later, someone knocked on the door, and the two hurriedly rushed off the bed and proceeded to get changed. "Just a minute!" Gabriel called.

It was Charlotte. "Hurry! One of your father's riders is here!" she yelled through the door. Kristina glanced at Gabriel, and the two hurriedly changed and ran outside to see.

It was Ormond Weiss, one of the original men recruited into the militia. Gabriel ran up to him and hugged his old friend. "Gabriel Martin! Why you're a sight for sore eyes!"

"What news have you? What of father and Yorktown? Is the battle over? Who won?" He busted with question, and Ormond chuckled.

"A typical inquisitive Martin. Your father sent me to tell you all that the war is indeed over. Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown. America is free of Britain."

A loud and boisterous 'Hoorah' went through the entire camp, as mothers hugged daughters and couples held each other. Charlotte picked up Susan as she cheered. Nathan took hold of his sister Meg as she sobbed happily into his arms. Gabriel took Kristina's hand in shock.

"It's really over," he stated, clouding his thoughts. Kristina herself took a time out from the world around her. So much was happening so fast.

"What of our men?" she heard Gabriel ask.

To this, Ormond frowned. "Many casualties of war. Your father was unharmed, as usual, though I swear I saw fifteen bullets go through him. Truly is a ghost, that Martin."

Gabriel was beaming with pride, though Kristina could tell he was still a little unnerved he wasn't there to see it. Well, I wish I was there too, she told herself.

A huge feast followed that evening, with music, dancing and plenty of laughter. Gabriel sat with his fiance by the beach, both listening to the sound of the crashing waves as the sun set in the sky.

"I guess no more espionage and fighting are in store for us, Gabriel Martin," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

"No, I suppose not. You were quite the spy in your prime." She sat up, looking into his mischievous eyes.

"In my prime? I'll have you know, good sir, I'm still in my prime and will be so for a very long time. Whose to say I'll never do spy work again?"

"Oh, believe me, I'll have something to say." He kissed her lightly.

"You know, I've saved your life countless times these past few years…I think I deserve something in return…"

"And what about me trampling through the British fort to save the damsel in distress?"

"Really, Gabriel, if you want to play the numbers game…"

"Fine fine fine," he said, cutting her off. "I owe you."

"Big time," she reminded him.

"Big time," he repeated. "I wonder what it is that I possess that you want?" Her eyes widened, and both got up, walking hand and hand towards their cabin.

"You know, we are going to need a bigger place once we're married…"she started.

"Much bigger."

"Filled with children."

"Filled? Aren't five brother and sister in laws enough?"

"Oh, no Gabriel, I've always dreamed of tons of little me's running around…"

"You mean wee little Martins?"

"Oh good God, will they have your personality?"

"God willing they'll get my side of the family in personality."

"As long as its my family's looks."

"What are you implying?"

"Oh nothing."

"Well, my dear, if you want tons of wee little ones scurrying around in a big house, we better get working."

"On the house or on the babies?"

"Really Kristina which one sounds more fun at this very moment?"

"Just go inside."

"Yes dear."

The end. I know this was an extremely short chapter, but wow I wanted this to end. Feedback is always a plus. Does the ending suck? I dunno…


	18. alternate ending

An Alternate ending to chapter 17

To those of you who want more, or are just bored, or, like me, think the other ending is a bit…well….sappy (what can I say, I just finished watching Love Actually), here's an ending that in my opinion goes back to the evolution of the characters. In this new one I'll explain moreso what ever happened to young Tavington. I do like chapter 17, but it seems a bit…odd. I feel as if I've made totally new characters instead of evolving the characters through their journeys. So, here you go. You can be the judge of which you like better

Gabriel stretched widely and reached to take hold of his love as she slept. However, when only sheets reached his arms, he awakened. Looking around the dark cabin, his blurry eyes found no trace of her. Strapping on his long johns, he sluggishly opened the door and walked barefoot down towards the beach, where a lone shadow sat by the waves.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "I know your as good a soldier as any man, you've proven that quite enough, but do you have to guard the camp at night?"

She looked over as he proceeded to slowly sit down next to her. "Couldn't sleep. Something's happening, Gabriel. I can feel it. I want to be there."

His lips caressed her shoulder then her neck, as she breathed heavily, her eyes closing. "I want to be there too."

She flinched to make him get off her. "But it is because of me that you are not by your father's side. You stayed, and you long to protect him."

"Father is fully capable of winning this war all by himself, you know this. I long to be there so that I can hurry home to you without looking back to see if a gun is pointed at me."

She gulped, pulling her hair back against the night breeze. For a few moments the only sounds heard were the soft crashing of waves. She sighed.

"I worry about my girls. Jane was to disband the group and have the girls come here until the war ends. I should have known she would disobey."

"Well, they learned disobedience from the best." She playfully nudged his side with her elbow. Soon her smile faded, and her mind went back to the subject she had long been thinking over.

"It's so very difficult, Gabriel. When I first met you, I was angry, I was passionate about the cause. I only cared about winning and getting back at my father for all the wrongs he caused. When he died…when you killed him, my anger subsided. Meeting Evan, it just flip flopped my mind. War isn't as clear. How many British soldiers with wives and children have we slaughtered? Weren't they only obeying orders? Evan did not believe in King George's fight. This war is simply one man's greed and the priceless sacrifices on both sides to gain more power and control. And what's worse…I gave my girls the right to gain information by all means possible. I gave the orders. I did it myself. I told them it was alright to do this…your father warned me once. Goodness that was a long time ago. I want no part of war anymore, but I worry because through my own rage for my father I taught my girls to fight and die and kill."

Gabriel did not say anything for a moment. He stared straight at the waves, comprehending how to instill hope in her.

He began, "Listen Kristina. We've been through a lot. You learned to survive through this god forsaken war. You taught your girls to survive. Yes, you know I never approved of what you did. But through your work, this war will be over soon. No one should live to see such times, but we did. No matter who wins, we will continue to survive and evolve. Whether we believe in war or not, we fought to survive, even if that meant fighting the innocent. We live in an age of kill or be sacrificed. Some chose to be sacrificed. Others, like you and I, fight like patriots."

She leaned on his shoulder as both stared towards the rising sun. His fingers stroked her wind blown hair as he sighed heavily. He whispered softly in her ear, "You are the strongest most beautiful woman I've ever met. You are strong, Kristina. You have to stay strong for me."

Two weeks later a letter arrived from Jane, detailing the Yorktown battle.

Dearest Kristina,

We did it. That fat hog Cornwallis surrendered a few days ago at Yorktown. Oh, if you had been there- please do not be angered that the girls and I decided to go. Just as you had your reasons to fight, so did all of us. Mary Ellis died trying to load a cannon. Eloise Kensington took a bullet to the chest, but somehow she's still breathing. She was not even armed when she ran to help a wounded soldier to safety. Flora Rittevon is missing. The other girls are alive and well, though all of us are scarred from this war. I thought maybe I should tell you in person, but I do not know when we shall see each other, so I guess I will have to write it. Evan Tavington died. I watched as he shot three Continentals. I hate to say one of our own, Clarisa Fortwright, triggered his end. Collateral damage was everywhere, I'm afraid. There are no good sides and bad sides, Kris, only the death in between. Mr. Martin is well. He is the one who asked me to send this letter along. He sends his love to his children. I hope you and Gabriel are well. I daresay I also took a wound. I was one of the very few girls in the midst of battle when I was shot in the leg. They had to cut it off, Kris. I suppose I'm one of the lucky ones. Emeline Harris lost an eye. Now that the war is over, I doubt I'll ever return to our beloved South Carolina. Too many memories. They are sending me up to Delaware for treatment. I love you, Kristina Warwick. I always have. I wish you the best with your Gabriel- I always knew something would happen.

With love,

Your Jane

Kristina refused to eat for two days, her mind plagued with thoughts of all she loved. A part of her wished she had been there….but the what if's were too numerous and stupid to think about. The costs of war are countless, she told herself. For everyone, not just yourself.

But the battles were not over yet.

One day, Nathan came running to their cabin, knocking and yelling for the two to wake.

After quickly dressing, Kristina and Gabriel went outside to see what all the commotion was about.

"Samuel, what's going on?" Gabriel asked as about twenty men came across the bridge, armed with muskets and looks of curiosity.

"I don't know." They weren't dressed in uniform, and some were whooping and hollering while others began to load the muskets.

"Stay back while I talk to them," Gabriel told, and Susan and the other children stood there. Kristina ran back to the cabin, Nathan and Samuel following. Something was afoot.

"The wars over son!" she heard one grey bearded man rejoice to Gabriel. "Now we can collect what was stolen…or er…wandered away while we fought for our lives."

Gabriel looked towards the camp, where about fifty blacks began to look terrified.

A young black man came up to Gabriel and the grey bearded man. "Sir, some of us were freed men long before the war started. Others of us served as soldiers. The women and children were released when the British set fire to their slaveholder's houses. We are free."

This angered the man. Before another word was spoken, one of the others, a boy no more than twenty, opened fire and shot the black man dead. Wailings erupted throughout the crowd, as children clung to their mothers and fathers raced inside their huts to get whatever weapons they had acquired over the years in hiding.

"What are you doing??" Gabriel shouted, and the young blonde pointed his musket at him.

"Don't tell me you're a N- lover. Just stay right there as we conduct our business,

and take what's rightfully ours." Gabriel put his hands up, his eyes blazing with hate.

Kristina, along with Nathan and Samuel, ran to the outskirts of the camp along the treeline as others ran to find cover. As silently as possible, they ran up a small hill closer to where the twenty southern men sat on their horses, not yet moving in on the camp.

"Nathan- the blonde. Samuel, mister gray beard. Meg…Meg?" Kristina whispered, surprised to see the girl silently walking up the hill with a musket of her own.

"If they land one finger on Abigail I'll-" she began, but Kristina instantly put her finger to her mouth to signal silence.

"Meg, once Nathan and Sam have fired, the other men are going to ride towards the camp, not knowing what to expect. Pick off the leaders, and keep your head behind this tree. Boys, once you reload, run south- without getting shot- towards the other end of camp. I'll run to the bridge to make sure none escape." They all nodded.

Kristina took aim at the man behind Gabriel-once the others were down he might be a problem. Sure enough, once Nathan fired his musket straight at the blonde haired boy's chest, Samuel fired and hit the grey beard in the eye. The man behind Gabriel, unsure of what was going on, pulled out his gun and aimed it straight at Gabriel. Krstina smirked, then fired her shot, killing him instantly.

Gabriel quickly ran into the trees as the other men raced towards camp away from the unknown snipers. As directed, Meg, Nathan, and Samuel ran to beat the men there. Some of the villagers opened fire on their attempted kidnappers, killing three in the process. An old black man was shot in leg and doubled over in pain. Meg opened fire on the man nearest Abigail, hitting him dead on the forehead.

Charlotte appeared, rushing Susan and other children into her cabin. Kristina stood at the bridges end, picking off two men trying to run away. Gabriel rushed by her side.

"Are you alright?" she asked, keeping her hand on the trigger and her eyes on the camp.

"I'm fine. Give me your dagger you have stashed away underneath that dress." She couldn't help but smile slightly, then reached down to give it to him.

"Be careful!" she whispered as he parted and ran into the camp. She watched as he silently slit two of the men's throats from behind, then bent down to get their muskets. Nathan shot another guy on horseback, though he failed to find cover in time as a shaggy brown haired man ontop his horse aimed and fired at Nathan, hitting him in the shoulder. He fell backward, unconscious. Kristina gasped, but kept her eyes to make sure none crossed the bridge. Soon only two men were left, and as the crowd ran to take care of them, they desperately rode their horses across the bridge. Kristina fired and hit one in the stomach. She had no time to reload and thrust her dagger forward, missing his vital area but hitting him in the arm. He toppled to the ground, and she was ready. She stamped her foot ontop of him as he reached for his gun when Gabriel ran beside her.

"Drop it!" He yelled. The man did not answer. He cocked his gun towards Kristina and Gabriel fired. Gabriel looked towards Kristina. "Where'd you get the other knife?" he enquired, bemused.

"I always keep a second in this damn corset", she exclaimed. He smirked.

"Gabriel!" Samuel screamed, and both ran to see Samuel crouching beside Nathan, who had woken up and was desperately trying to conceal his pain.

"First real fight I've been in" he exclaimed. Gabriel smiled.

"You did great."

That night the free blacks burned their three dead comrades. All the Martins gathered around Nathan as he fought to keep his face free of pride for getting wounded.

Kristina grabbed both her arms and squeezed in nervousness.

Soon they retired to their own cabin for a few hours of sleep, though the sun was already beginning to make its way up in the sky. "You fought bravely." Gabriel at last said. "And you saved me yet again."

Kristina smiled slightly. "I never thought I'd have to fight again." She paused, then remarked, "All you Martins are excellent snipers. Did you see Meg?"

Gabriel nodded. "There will always be battles to fight, Kris. It never ends." He began to undress and get in bed. She did likewise.

"For a second I thought I might lose you again. It seems now that the war is over a whole new form of battles will have to be fought. Abigail and everyone else aren't safe here anymore."

"When father comes, we'll take everyone and build a new home. A new life," he whispered, exhausted from the day's events.

Kristina's eyes were wide awake, and she lay facing him. "With hopefully a government free of tyranny."

Gabriel sighed. "Some things will never change. But we fought for liberty, and we have to believe our intentions are good enough to come true. Now, miss, if you don't mind I think I'd like to get some sleep….by the way…you don't…sleep with that dagger do you?" he enquired playfully.

She smirked. "Only when I'm sleeping next to you."

"Too cold you are."

"A girl never takes her chances, especially with curly haired blondes."


End file.
